


Dare to Dream

by LeQuin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-09 14:58:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 52,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18919348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeQuin/pseuds/LeQuin
Summary: After catching Harry and Ron making up entries for their Dream Diaries, Hermione tries to get Harry more interested in his homework by including him in a research project. Their work leads to results that neither could have imagined when they embarked on their quest for knowledge.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Harry Potter and all associated characters, locations and what not belong to J.K. Rowling and whoever she sells the rights to. I have borrowed these characters, locations and what not in order to mess around with them. In some cases I have lifted a piece of dialogue or scene directly from the books as a touchstone. I do not own anything except the plot and I am not making any money from this endeavor. This applies to the whole story.
> 
> **Warning**
> 
> This story was written as a gift to the Harmony & Co. group for their 2000 member milestone. It will be Harmony.

“Honestly, you two! Can’t you take your homework more seriously?” Harry looked up from his writing to find one of his two best friends scowling at him as she stood next to the table he was working at, her arms planted firmly on her hips to underscore her displeasure.

“It’s not real homework, Hermione.” His other best friend protested. “They’re just Trelawney’s dream diaries.”

“You should still be taking the assignment seriously, Ron. This is our O.W.L. year. What are you going to do when a question about dream divination comes up on your exam?”

“Same thing I’m doing now.” Ron shrugged in reply.

“You’re not serious?!”

“Course I am. Not like they won’t be used to it anyway. How long’s Trelawney been teaching this stuff? She’s bound to know more about what it takes to pass a divination O.W.L. than you would, right?”

Harry watched Ron smirk as Hermione sputtered in an effort to come up with a response to that barb.

“Well… well… Harry, surely you can talk some sense into him?”

“Sorry, Hermione. This is the only way I can get this done. I never remember my dreams except for-… well, you know.” An awkward silence settled between the three friends as they were reminded of Harry’s Occlumency lessons and the reason for them. “Anyway,” Harry continued, shaking himself, “I can’t very well hand the homework in blank, can I?”

“I suppose not.” Hermione agreed reluctantly. “Have you looked at methods for remembering dreams? I don’t know of any reliable, muggle methods but maybe the magical world has something?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Hermione, but I’m not so interested in Divination that I’ve been researching things like that.”

“Just imagine,” Ron snorted, “Who would do extra homework for Trelawney’s class?”

“It’s not for her class, Ron!” Hermione snapped. “It’s for your exams at the end of the year.”

“Yeah, yeah. Are you really sure you should be having a go at us like that after you called the class rubbish and marched out?”

Hermione just glared at them and stormed off.

“I think that might have been a bit too far, Ron.” Harry said quietly as he watched their friend stomp out through the portrait hole.

“She’s gotten me often enough. It all balances out.” Ron shrugged philosophically. “C’mon, let’s get back to these diaries. No way I want to spend more time on them than I absolutely have to.”

With one last look at the now closed entrance to the common room Harry turned back to the chart in front of him and wracked his brains for monstrous ways he could die that he hadn’t used yet.

:-:-:-:-:

“Harry…?”

Hearing that wheedling tone of voice, Harry felt himself go on guard.

“Yeah?” He could feel that Hermione wanted something; something he probably wanted no part of.

“Remember how we were talking about recalling dreams a few days ago?”

“You mean that argument you had with Ron about our Divination homework?” Harry wasn’t proud of the tactic, but he really hoped that keeping Hermione distracted would lead to less embarrassment in the long run. For a moment her scowl gave him hope, but it quickly melted back into the slight pout she had been wearing before.

“That one. See, I’ve been doing some research and-”

“We’ve already handed the assignment in, Hermione.” Harry tried.

“I know, but surely you can see the real-world benefits of allowing people more insight into their dreams. I mean we could help people understand themselves better, possibly even overcome traumas!”

“Oookkaaay… then why are you bringing it up with me? I mean, I doubt I could really help you.”

“No, you can!” Hermione exclaimed quickly.

For a moment Harry felt himself balancing on an edge, unsure of what he should do. The pair of pleading brown eyes in front of him finally pushed him over.

“Fine.” He sighed. “I’ll help you with your project.”

“Yay! Thank you, Harry!” Hermione almost squealed as she jumped forward to pull him into a hug.

“Just don’t tell Ron, okay? He’d never let this go.”

“Deal!” Hermione beamed as she stepped back.

“I take it you’ve already found a way to recall dreams?” Harry asked. If they were going to do this, he might as well get started.

“Possibly. I was hoping you’d help me test it out… and make it?”

“Make it?!” Harry asked in surprise.

“Please, Harry?”

“I- yeah, fine, Hermione. I said I’d help, right?” Harry felt like he had done something worthwhile when Hermione shot him another beaming smile before launching into her explanation of what she wanted to do. _She spends enough time listening to me talk Quidditch. I can at least do this much for her._

“… so when we have everything we could start weaving!” Hermione finished expectantly. Harry promptly cursed himself for letting his thoughts wander, no matter how well-intentioned. _Nothing for it but to bluff my way through now._

“Right. What do we need to do to get what we need?” Harry asked, hoping that he would at least get an overview of what he’d missed when Hermione gave her usual thorough answer.

“Let’s see… we should be able to find some holly boughs at the edge of the Forbidden Forest… amethysts are not excessively rare, but they’re not exactly free either. We could probably pick up a suitable piece next time we visit Hogsmeade. I think it’s the Wampus hair that’s going to give us trouble.” Hermione shot Harry an apologetic look as she paused in her list. “The Wampus Cat is only found in North America and not a lot of wizards spend time collecting their hair. Almost none export to Europe so we’re going to have to rely on an international delivery service; that’s not going to be cheap. We’re going to have to order quite a bit too.”

_Wampus hair? I_ really _missed the important part here._ Apparently unnerved by his lack of immediate response, Hermione hurried on.

“Maybe we can look at doing some odd jobs to raise the money. We could charge for tutoring services.”

“Don’t worry about it, Hermione. The contents of my vault isn’t doing anyone any good right now so we might as well put it towards a project that could end up helping people.”

“Are you sure, Harry? I don’t want you to think that I asked you to join because of your money.” Hermione asked as she twisted the hem of her jumper.

“It’s fine. Besides, I know you asked me to get revenge for me talking about Quidditch all of the time.” He watched Hermione blink in surprise at the unexpected joke before smiling at him.

“You’d better believe it, Potter. Vengeance shall be ever so sweet.”

“You need to work on your maniacal tone.” Harry deadpanned, getting a snort of laughter in return. “Anyway, tell me some more about how this is supposed to work.”

Hermione promptly launched into another explanation of the idea she had come up with and this time Harry made sure to pay more attention.

:-:-:-:-:

“Finally!” Ron exclaimed happily. “I was beginning to think that they wouldn’t let us out of the castle at all!”

Hermione shook her head slightly in exasperation as she and Harry followed their friend down the trail towards Hogsmeade.

“This isn’t like the other trips we’ve been on, Ron. We’re prefects now; we have to keep an eye on the other students.”

“Don’t worry, Hermione. We can just check Zonko’s first, then we can head to Honeydukes and we’ll finish up by checking the Three Broomsticks.” Ron quipped. She stifled the urge to groan. _What Professor McGonagall was thinking making Ron the boys’ prefect instead of Harry I will never know._

Before the year started, Hermione had been absolutely sure that Harry would be elevated to the position. There was no one else in their year who commanded the kind of respect he did.

She dearly wanted to believe that the Professors had a good reason for not choosing him, but moments like this made her doubt that any reason could be convincing enough to justify the decision that had been made. Certainly, Harry’s claims that he had caused too much trouble over the years were tripe as far as Hermione was concerned. There was no way that Harry would have blown off his responsibilities like this.

On the other hand, with that Umbridge woman in the castle, his occlumency classes and the general tide of public opinion, Harry probably had enough on his plate without also having to chase down troublemakers at every turn. There was also the added benefit of having him available to browse the local shops for the items they would need to continue their project.

When they reached the village, Ron was off like a shot, almost disappearing among the milling students.

“Drat! I’m sorry, Harry. Could you-”

“Don’t worry, Hermione. I’ll find the things we need.” Harry interrupted her with a small smile.

“Thanks. I promise I’ll make it up to you. I just really need to make sure that Ron does at least _some_ of the duties he’s supposed to.” Hermione offered apologetically.

“Just make sure you remember to have some fun yourself, Hermione. I don’t want to see you as exhausted as you were when you had that Time Turner.”

“I’ll take some time for myself.” Hermione promised, feeling a little pleased at the note of concern in Harry’s voice. “Now remember: it needs to be a _white_ amethyst. And if Dervish and Bangs can’t help with the Wampus hair order you can try the local branch of Ollivander’s. Wampus hair is sometimes used as a wand core in America. And-”

“Hermione! I remember.” Harry interrupted. For just a moment Hermione thought she could hear a slight undercurrent of laughter in his voice.

“I know. I’m sorry.” She admitted. “Come find me when you’re done?”

“Of course.” Harry agreed easily lifting his hand in a wave as he headed off to do their shopping. Hermione watched him go for a moment longer before squaring her shoulders and hurrying after Ron. _Goodness only knows what kind of mischief he’ll encourage if the younger years see a prefect buying banned products._

Finding her fellow prefect cheerfully rooting around a bin of discounted Dungbombs near their sell by date only confirmed to Hermione that she had been right to worry. She only managed to pull Ron out of there by reminding him that he wouldn’t be able to buy any sweets or Butterbeer if he spent all of his money on pranks that she was going to confiscate if he actually tried to smuggle them into the castle.

Ron spent the walk over to Honeyduke’s grousing as he always did when someone brought up his financial situation. Thankfully the bounty in that store soon had him distracted and he forgot all about nursing his injured pride.

As much as a dentist’s daughter might disapprove of the amount of sweets being bought, she couldn’t object on the basis of school rules. After a while, being in a place where, short of shoplifting, there was no potential rule breaking she could keep an eye out for started to wear on Hermione. _I should be outside, keeping an eye on students getting into mischief. Even Zonko’s offers more of a chance to do what we’re supposed to; or would if Ron wasn’t trying to turn himself into the prime offender._

It felt like it took an eternity for Ron to choose his final purchase. Hermione had almost offered to just buy his Butterbeer for him, if only to stop the ridiculous weighing of his options while keeping the price of the desired drink in mind for later. Just in time she’d realised that it wouldn’t solve the problem, only change the amount of money Ron was trying to stuff as many treats as possible into.

Once they had made it back out into the street Hermione did everything she could to not hurry along to the Three Broomsticks. She knew that once they had entered the pub there would be no chance of convincing Ron to go back outside and patrol, so this was going to have to do. Eventually she couldn’t hold off Ron’s desire to get out of the autumn chill any more than her own to see Harry and learn how the shopping had gone.

“Man, I hope Harry got here ahead of us and got us a table.” Ron complained as they pushed their way into the packed bar. Hermione was too busy keeping up with him to answer. “Brilliant! He did!” Hermione had to take Ron’s word for it, unable to see over the press herself. She focused on following his back through the crowd as he pushed and shoved forward. “Harry! Mate!”

“Hey, Ron. Where’s Hermione?” Harry’s voice sounded from the other side of a wall of humanity.

“I’m right here, Harry.” she called back. “Sit down already, Ron.” Ron thankfully did as she asked, and Hermione found herself facing a table in the corner. Harry had taken up position on a small bench that sat back against the wall while Ron was lowering himself into one of the chairs across from their friend. As Hermione slid onto the bench next to Harry, Ron spoke up again.

“Guess there’s some good to you being a nutter, mate.” the redhead laughed. “There’s no way this lot would have let you have a table all by yourself if they weren’t worried about being seen with you.

“Ron!” Hermione snapped, scandalised. Harry actually had a half smile on his face at the insensitive comment though.

“Glad we finally found a bright side to that whole situation.” he snorted sardonically. “While we’re at it maybe this year Halloween won’t bring some horrendous experience with it either; you know, just for the sake of variety.” The two boys promptly launched into possible scenarios that could occur if this year’s Halloween held true to form. A surprising number of these included Umbridge turning into a monstrous toad and each scenario was more ridiculous than the last.

Hermione understood that her friends were just trying to vent their frustrations with their Defence Professor, especially Harry who was in that woman’s office every other night writing lines. Given the censorship the Ministry was putting her friend through, she couldn’t even blame him for his detentions. All the same, the conversation wore at her. Hermione had never seen the point in disparaging a teacher. It never led to anything productive and having to listen to it now was only making her more aware of the fact that she couldn’t have the conversation she really wanted to.

The young witch found herself starting to fidget as the nervous energy built up inside of her. She was so on edge that she almost leapt off the bench in surprise when she felt a hand grabbing her own.

“You alright, Hermione?” Ron asked, having seen her start but not what had happened under the table.

“Fine, Ron.” Hermione responded absently. Her mind was busy processing what she was feeling. For Harry to have taken her hand was certainly outside of the norm. She might hug him, she might even have kissed his cheek last year when they left Kings Cross to go home, but Harry never initiated physical contact with anyone. Her surprise at this move on his part had almost kept her from realising that something hard was digging through her mitten and into her palm. It took a monumental effort of will to bring her mind back to what was happening above the table. “I was just a little lost in my thoughts and someone bumped me.”

Ron gave her an odd look for a moment before shrugging and taking what she said at face value.

“You know, Ron, Hermione’s probably just distracted wondering what we’ve gotten her for her birthday.” Harry grinned. Under the table Hermione could feel him turning their hands so hers was on the bottom, palm up. He then let go to reach for something next to him which left Hermione holding whatever hard object had been caught between their hands.

Hermione snuck a look down and saw that she was now holding a pair of perfectly clear stones. A small hole appeared to have been drilled through each one, just big enough for a thin cord to be pulled through. _The amethyst! He did it!_ She turned to beam at her best friend only to find him holding out a wrapped package.

“Happy birthday, Hermione.” Harry said as he laid it on the table in front of her.

“My birthday was weeks ago, Harry.”

“Yeah, but I haven’t had a chance to go shopping before now, so now is when you get your present.” Harry grinned. His eyes darted across the table and Hermione caught Ron scowling slightly. “It’s from both of us.” The shock on Ron’s face only underscored that Harry’s loyalty was admirable, but that the lie was absolutely pathetic.

“Well, you didn’t have to, but thank you.” Hermione demurred before deciding to let sleeping dogs lie. “Both of you.” As she spoke she slipped the amethyst into her coat pocket, so she could accept the gift. She eagerly tore into the wrapping and after a flurry of ripped paper found herself holding a heavy book. Midnight blue letters pressed into a light blue leather binding informed her that this book was called _Dream Strider_.

“The shop attendant said that it’s a ‘meta-analysis of various traditionally developed astral-projection and sleep magics’.” Harry rattled off. “Not entirely sure what he meant, but it sounds like something that would make you say ‘Fascinating!’.”

On the other side of the table Ron burst into sniggers at Harry’s explanation. “I can so imagine that coming out of her mouth.”

“Hmph. It sounds like it really _will_ be fascinating.” Hermione sniffed in response.

“That’s good.” Harry jumped in, clearly hoping to avoid an argument. “That’s why we got it for you after all.”

Hermione took a breath to calm herself. Harry was right that starting a fight over a gift was a silly thing to do, especially since she knew that he was giving her this on top of helping with her project. She also forced herself to admit that she didn’t really blame Harry for not wanting to involve Ron in this; the ribbing would not only be annoying, it would be a distraction.

As the boys’ talk unsurprisingly turned to quidditch and Gryffindor’s chances at the cup, Hermione allowed her fingers to caress the pages of her new book. As they travelled up the stack, she frowned in consternation; something had felt off. She ran her fingers along the pages again. _There! There’s something there, I’m sure of it._

Opening the book in her lap, Hermione began to flip through it. When she got to the part where she had felt the irregularity a piece of parchment slipped out of the book. Her hand darted out and caught it before it could flutter to the ground. For a brief moment she was worried that the book had been damaged.

Then she read the words.

In her hand she held the receipt for an order for a skein of Wampus hair. Hermione had to force back her initial urge to grab Harry in a tight hug and make sure that he knew just how good of a friend he was. Instead she settled for reaching out and grabbing his hand under the table in a reciprocation of his earlier gesture.

Harry didn’t acknowledge the contact with more than a flick of his eyes to meet hers before he returned to his conversation with Ron. When she squeezed his hand though, he responded in kind without hesitation. Hermione couldn’t stop smiling as she sat there with her new book in one hand and Harry’s hand in the other. The feeling of a conversation without words between the two of them, a conversation no one else even knew was taking place, was intoxicating.

Over the weeks that followed Hermione’s smile returned to her face whenever she pulled her book out for some bedtime reading and her mind wandered back to Three Broomsticks. The feelings she had experienced as she sat there on a small, wooden bench led to her labelling her and Harry’s project as their ‘clandestine research’. If anyone ever found out about that she would claim that the fault lay with her father’s fondness for James Bond films she decided.

:-:-:-:-:

Harry was confused. For the past two weeks Hermione had been walking around with a secretive smile on her face every time she caught sight of him. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his friend, but something was up and he hated not knowing things like that. He’d been bitten too often by not knowing something; occasionally the bites had even been literal.

Whenever he tried to bring it up with Hermione though she would either ignore his questions or change the subject so quickly that Harry was certain she knew exactly what he meant. Nothing he did could get her to open up about what was so funny. The only thing she had said about it was “A girl needs a few secrets, Harry.” It was a sentence that bothered him to no end.

That morning though, he received a perfect chance for a little revenge. At breakfast, the arrival of the usual swarm of owls brought a visitor. An owl Harry had never seen before landed in front of him with a parcel strapped to its legs.

Harry quickly fed it some bacon as he untied his delivery. He wasted no time tucking the package into his bag, ignoring the curious stares he could feel coming from all around him. Looking up he found Ron staring at him intently.

“Was that from Snuffles?” he asked, clearly trying to sound perfectly casual.

“Not really the time or the place, mate.” Harry reminded him. Even with the code name, they usually refrained from speaking about Sirius in public, just in case someone put two and two together. Ron nodded in understanding and went back to his breakfast. A quick glance to his side told Harry that Hermione was giving him an almost pleading stare. He saw her eyes dart across the table to check that Ron was giving the plate in front of him his full attention.

“Is it the you-know-what?” she whispered so softly that Harry had barely heard her. He shrugged at her with a smirk.

“A guy needs a few secrets now and then, Hermione.” He responded smugly.

“Yeah, and don’t you dare go telling her about them.” Ron interrupted causing Hermione’s head to snap around to face him disapprovingly.

“Chew your food!” she shot out. “I felt a gob of sausage landing on me.”

Ron responded by very obviously chewing with his mouth open at Hermione. Harry decided to just leave things be since neither Ron nor Hermione was currently trying to ask him questions about the delivery he had just received.

As they walked to class, Harry was reasonably sure that Ron had forgotten all about the mystery package, but the shrewd look Hermione was giving him told him that there was no way it had slipped that prodigious mind. It also appeared that Hermione might have guessed what was in the package as she didn’t bring it up for the rest of the day. In fact, the package didn’t come up again until Harry was about to go to bed that evening.

The common room had been slowly, but steadily emptying around him as more and more Gryffindor’s felt Morpheus’ call. Harry would have joined them, but Ron had managed to wheedle a few more games of chess out of him. That Hermione was still sitting on a couch with her face buried in the book he had gotten her for her birthday hadn’t struck a single Gryffindor as strange or different. Finally though, even Ron had had enough.

“Checkmate, Harry.” the redhead grinned, only to lose his smile to a jaw-cracking yawn. “Oh man, that’s it for me. I’m off to bed.” he said, gathering up his chess set. “You coming, Harry?”

“No, he isn’t.” Hermione spoke up causing the two boys to look at her in surprise. “You asked me to look over your Potions homework for tomorrow and there are some changes that you definitely need to make.” she told Harry sternly.

“You can’t be serious, Hermione.” Ron protested. “How’s Harry supposed to think about Potions at this time of night?”

“If he didn’t want my help, he shouldn’t have asked for it and then spent the evening playing around.” Hermione sniffed.

“Go ahead, Ron.” Harry said in a resigned tone. “You know Hermione isn’t going to let this go.” Ron looked like he was about to protest some more but managed to restrain himself to a shrug.

“Don’t let her keep you up all night.” he warned Harry _sotto voce_. “You know we can’t keep up with her when she gets going, so don’t even try.” Harry nodded to show that he’d understood and Ron clapped him on the shoulder. “Good night, then.” Ron offered both of them before heading up the stairs to the boys’ dorm. Hermione’s eyes followed him until he was out of sight and then snapped over to Harry.

“You received the Wampus hair this morning, didn’t you?” she asked without preamble. Harry just nodded, having already guessed what this would be about. “Good. That means that we can start building our dreamcatchers.”

Harry still wasn’t sure if this was really going to work. Dreamcatchers were known in the muggle world too and seemed to be mostly decorative. Still, if Hermione thought that this would work then he was prepared to give it a go.

“I think I have the necessary runes mapped out. It’ll take me some time to etch them onto the amethysts though, so I won’t be able to weave the webs until after that. We want the holly boughs to be as fresh as possible when we’re assembling them.”

“Why don’t I just do the weaving?” Harry asked. “I doubt it would be much harder than sewing clothes.” Hermione blinked up at him in surprise.

“You sew?” Harry just nodded, not wanting to get into why sewing had been a necessary skill at the Dursleys’. “Well, I suppose you should be able to handle this then. The pattern isn’t difficult, just repetitive. Are you sure you’ll be able to keep working precisely for the amount of time this is likely to take?”

“I’m sure.”

“Alright then.” Hermione relented. “When should we get the holly boughs?”

“I’ll do it on the way back from detention.” Harry offered. “That should save us having to make up excuses for where we went.”

“Good point.” Hermione agreed. “How are your detentions going, anyway? Is Professor Umbridge still making you write lines?” Harry’s hand reflexively pulled a little farther into the sleeve of his robe.

“Yeah.’ he muttered.

“Well, it could be worse then I suppose.” Hermione sighed. “Just try to keep them to a minimum, hmm? It’s our O.W.L. year after all.”

“I’ll try.” Harry said through a smile that felt more like a grimace. “Now, unless my Potions homework really was that bad, I was ready for bed an hour ago.”

“While it could be improved on, it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as I led Ronald to believe.” Hermione allowed with a small smile. “Sleep well, Harry.”

“Yeah. You too.”

When Harry was finally ensconced behind his bed’s hangings he looked at the back of his right hand. The angry red of the words had barely faded since the end of his last detention. _Just man up, Potter. You know that’s the only thing you can do_ Harry thought to himself as he laid down. Closing his eyes, he pulled his covers up and did his best to will himself to sleep.

:-:-:-:-:

Harry’s next detention did not take long to arrive. He sat through it as unresponsively as possible. He remembered the lessons he had learnt at Privet Drive and made sure not to give his tormentor anything she could latch on to for the sake of causing him further pain.

After what felt like hours of writing the same sentence over and over in his own blood, Harry was starting to feel light-headed. He was almost grateful that Umbridge came over and unceremoniously inspected the back of his hand. She gave a short nod before turning a hard, if smug, look at him.

“That will be all for today, Mr. Potter.” She said in that high girly voice. “Remember that if anyone finds out about my precious possessions I will have to assume that you intend to _fully_ share your punishments with them.” These were the same words that she always used to end his detentions.

“Yes, Madam Umbridge.” Harry responded emotionlessly.

“You may go.”

As Harry walked out of the Defence Classroom he managed to remind himself that he wasn’t supposed to go straight to the common room. He ducked into one of the castle’s many secret corridors as soon as he could.

Sure that he was out of sight of both Umbridge and any portraits that might report back to her, Harry risked a look at the back of his hand. He bit back a curse when he saw that the marks which until tonight had only been an angry red, like a friction burn, were now bleeding slightly like a cat scratch.

_Damn it all, this is going to make it much harder to hide. At least this will probably have stopped by the time I make it back up to the common room._ Harry shook his head as if it would help him dislodge the unpleasant thoughts. As his feet turned towards a little used exit that would allow him to make a quick dash towards the Forbidden Forest, Harry found his mind turning back to Umbridge’s final words.

_‘That will be all for today, Mr. Potter. Remember that if anyone finds out about my precious possessions I will have to assume that you intend to_ fully _share your punishments with them._ ’

It was a blatant threat. Not that Harry was particularly surprised the Under-Secretary would resort to such things. Umbridge wasn’t disciplining him after all, she was trying to silence him. He also knew exactly who was the most likely to both find out what was going on and to draw Umbridge’s bigoted attention.

_No! I won’t let that happen. I’m not sure how, but I will never let Umbridge near my friends._  

Focusing on that determination worked better than trying to ignore his thoughts all together and Harry found himself making good progress. His only distraction from his worries was the brief sprint across the open fields to the edge of the forest.

Once he was hidden under the leaves of the trees he found that their shadows darkened the already black night. Not wanting an encounter with something worse than holly thorns, Harry drew his wand.

“ _Lumos_.” he incanted quietly. As soon as light erupted from his wand Harry began sweeping it back and forth across the walls of plants around him.

It only took a few minutes to find what he was looking for; any second year Herbology student would have been able to do as much. Cutting Charms made quick work of several long, supple branches allowing Harry to tug them out of the thickets they had grown through. He extinguished his Torch Charm and hurried back into the castle.

He hadn’t wanted to bring his father’s invisibility cloak to the detention for fear of Umbridge confiscating it. The inevitable downside was that he was now going to have to dodge the patrolling prefects and teachers on his way back up to Gryffindor Tower. _They usually patrol the corridors with the fewest paintings in them. Stick to the secret passages as much as possible and make sure to use your ears._

In the end Harry discovered that he had worried needlessly as he ran across precisely no authority figures on his way up to the Fat Lady. He did his best to ignore her disapproving expression as he gave her the password.

There were still quite a few people in the common room at this hour, working on homework, letters home or simply talking with friends. Harry imagined that he could hear a rustle of heads turning away as one once the curious onlookers had identified the newcomer. He saw Hermione and Ron sitting together at one of the tables. Ron was just getting pulled back into his seat by Hermione and Harry interpreted her jabs at his parchment as a warning that she wasn’t going to let him leave until his homework was done.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. It had even happened to Harry once or twice. If Hermione became convinced that they were slacking too much in their studies she would take the offender apart and make him work on whatever was outstanding until they were caught up to her satisfaction.

Harry gave Ron a look of commiseration which was received with a slight grin before the redhead focused his concentration back on the parchment before him. Harry’s eyes shifted over to Hermione who was giving him a hopeful look. Harry nodded as slightly as he could in an effort to convey that he had indeed collected the last of their supplies and was now going to get to work on weaving the dreamcatcher. Hermione’s answering smile was almost surprising in how much happiness it conveyed.

Feeling oddly like he had missed a step, Harry quickly made his way up to his dorm. He went through his ablutions in record time and ducked through the hangings of his four-poster. Inside he found the holly boughs that he had just put there, the skein of Wampus hair and a slip of parchments with the instructions for weaving a dreamcatcher written out in Hermione’s neat hand.

As he reached out for the parchment he noticed that the words on the back of his hand had already scabbed over. _Come to think of it, maybe some repetitive drudgery is just what I need. It used to help a bit with the Dursleys._

With that thought firmly in mind, Harry picked up the instructions and got to work.

:-:-:-:

Hermione felt so excited that she had to check if she wasn’t vibrating. She had just finished carving the first runic array she had designed by herself. Sure, it was largely based on another, but with a new input this was now _her_ design.

Technically, Hermione knew, Professor Babbling had strictly forbidden experimenting with new runic arrays; had in fact gone into great detail on the potential dangers of doing so. Hermione knew she was treading on the edges of that prohibition but reminded herself that she wasn’t _creating_ so much as _adapting_ and that she had a thorough understanding of the principles involved; they had covered this particular array, the same one that recorded images in a magical camera, extensively in class after all.

That she had finished meant that it was time to combine Harry’s work with hers to, hopefully, produce a new magical tool. Hermione forced herself to leave the two stones hidden in her trunk, despite her desire to take them with her. _They’ll only be a distraction. Heaven knows Professor McGonagall would probably pick up on the fact that I was spending more time looking in my bag than paying attention within a minute._

Hermione took a deep breath to regain some control. It wouldn’t do to appear too flustered or excited when she had no way to explain the source of those emotions to most of Hogwarts. With a firm nod to reaffirm to herself that she could handle this, Hermione slung her bookbag over her shoulder and headed down to breakfast.

She arrived at the Great Hall early enough that it was still sparsely populated. A familiar head of messy black hair could be seen already sitting at the Gryffindor table though. Harry wasn’t as consistently early to breakfast as Hermione was, but this was hardly the first time he’d made it down before her. It _was_ a little unusual to see Cho Chang walking away from him, but with the number of detentions Harry had been receiving recently Hermione could only agree with the Head Girl giving him a talking to. _Not that it’s going to help since it’s not all Harry’s fault, but at least she’s taking her job seriously._

Hermione’s feet carried her over to Harry’s side without a second thought and she sat down next to him. His head came up to look at her for a moment; it was enough for Hermione to note the rings under his eyes.

“I take it you finished the inscriptions?” he murmured softly. Hermione blinked in surprise for a moment, before reprimanding herself. _I should know better. I can read Harry better than just about anyone else after being his friend for so long. Should I really have expected him to have experienced those same interactions without learning to do the same to me? Still, I was trying to hide it, so…_

“Am I being obvious?” she asked in a similarly low tone. Harry looked her over again and shrugged. Hermione took that to mean ‘probably not, but I’m not awake enough to make a proper assessment’. “Alright then.” Hermione took her time assembling her breakfast as she surreptitiously watched her friend.

_He looks like he’s barely gotten a wink of sleep. I hope that these dreamcatchers work; if only for a chance to get Harry past whatever has him down here on those early mornings._

The rest of breakfast passed more or less silently until they were joined by a grumbling Ron. Their redheaded friend didn’t look much more awake than Harry did, but Hermione payed it no attention; Ron looked like that every morning.

Classes passed torturously slowly that day, which was an unusual experience for a confessed bibliophile. Hermione just couldn’t help it though. The challenge of her ‘clandestine project’ sat just out of reach, tempting her with the promise of far more intellectual achievement than even a fifth-year Hogwarts class could offer.

It didn’t help that, even when classes had ended, Hermione was forced to sit on her anticipation through supper, homework and waiting for everyone to go to bed as well. It got to the point where Harry announcing that he was heading up to bed as Ron was already climbing the stairs almost had her leaping out of her chair in protest. Harry took it all in stride though and simply pulled her into a hug rather than leaving her hanging in an awkward stance that hovered between sitting and standing.

“I have to get the dreamcatchers for you, don’t I? This way should be better for hiding what we’re doing.” Harry’s voice whispered in her ear as her arms came around him. She gave him an extra tight squeeze to let him know that she’d understood. Stepping back, she graced him with a beaming smile.

“Good night, Harry.” she told him fondly. _That inner James Bond of his really is something. I wonder if he even knows he’s doing it?_ Hermione thought as she watched him head up. She decided that she wouldn’t bring it up with Harry; after all, he might stop if she pointed it out to him and she found that she really didn’t want him to.

Hermione sat back down and picked up her book. She tried to dive back into the flow of reading, but something niggled at her. Looking up to determine what it was, Hermione found that several heads turned away from her abruptly as if they didn’t want to be caught staring. Several others didn’t and were looking at her with slightly smug smiles. One or two were even aiming glares at her.

_What the-?_ Hermione was stunned that she had apparently become a centre of the common room’s attention. Running the last several minutes back through her mind revealed the problem in a flash of insight. _They’ve realised that Harry hugged me rather than the other way around. Drat._ Hermione knew that by lunchtime tomorrow the rumour mill would just about have her and Harry fornicating on one of the couches. _Not that they haven’t come up with similar stories before but… it’s just so exhausting to deal with every time. Especially when it feels like everyone and their owl are already having a go at Harry._

With a sigh, Hermione got up and made her way up to her own dorm. There was no way she was going to be able read with all those stares digging into her. _I’ll just have to adopt the same approach as Harry._

As she was getting ready for bed, Hermione managed to slip the carved amethysts out of her trunk with her nightgown so that she could smuggle them into her bed without her roommates noticing. Safely ensconced by her four-poster’s curtains, Hermione changed and settled down to the reading that Gryffindor’s collective curiosity had denied her in the common room.

As happened frequently to the young witch, she lost herself completely in her book. The outside world faded away as she sank into its pages until only the words she was reading were real. It was perhaps not so strange then that a shocked “Eep!” escaped her when her bed lit up with a silver glow. Standing at the foot of her bed she saw a stately glowing stag.

“Prongs…” Hermione breathed out, awed at seeing Harry’s patronus. It didn’t take long for awe to be booted out by realisation. “What time is it?!” A quick glance at her watch told Hermione that midnight had come and gone. _Harry must be waiting for me downstairs._ “Can you let him know that I’m coming?” she asked the apparition in front of her in a rare bout of irrationality. The stag, lowered its head and turned around before walking downhill through her mattress and the floor. Hermione decided to take that as agreement and hurriedly slipped her dressing gown and slippers on. A quick check to make sure that she was carrying her carved amethysts later she was rushing down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs Hermione found a common room that was entirely dark, but for the glow of smouldering coals in the fire place.

“ _Lumos_.” Hermione incanted quietly. A hand thrown up to ward eyes that had become adjusted to the dark told her where Harry was. “Sorry.” she whispered out, pointing her wand at the floor, unsure whether she was apologising for the light or the wait.

“‘s okay.” Harry mumbled. Hermione could see that he was blinking the stars out of his vision. “Should we get started?” Her wand-beam followed his hand as it moved and illuminated a pair of tightly woven dreamcatchers lying on the couch next to him.

“Let’s.” she agreed. The process of slipping the carved amethysts onto the tails of Wampus hair that Harry had left on the dreamcatchers was such a quick and easy process that it felt almost anti-climactic. In less than two minutes Hermione and Harry each had the finished product in their laps. “I suppose that the only thing left to do now is hang them over our beds and… wait.” Next to her, Harry nodded slowly.

“Sweet dreams then?” he asked with a tinge of humour. Hermione couldn’t stop a snort of amusement escaping.

“Yes, sweet dreams, Harry.” she agreed with an unseen eyeroll of fond exasperation at the joke. Neither friend particularly felt like drawing out the already late night and soon both were tucked into their beds, fast asleep underneath their new invention.

Hermione had taken only just enough time before falling asleep to start the most important part of any scientific research: a record of observations.

:-:-:-:-:

**_Excerpt from Hermione Granger’s research notes_ **

_Day 1_

_Construction of dreamcatchers completed today. Hanging above the beds of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger to start data collection. Construction methods to be included in an appendix._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should point out that Harry’s Occlumency lessons with Snape didn’t start until after Christmas of his fifth year in the books. I’m pretending that these lessons started at the beginning of the year (because, let’s face it: the people making that decision reacted to him being angry and seeing visions as if that hadn’t already been going on for the whole of that year at least). Considering the events of book four Dumbledore and Sirius at least knew that Harry could have visions of Voldemort. For this story: assume they jumped on that the moment Riddle came back from the mostly-dead and organized Occlumency training for the key figure in stopping him.
> 
> The Wampus Cat is a creature from the world of Harry Potter that is said to have hypnotic powers. Its hair is occasionally used in American wand cores. I’ve combined those two properties to conclude that the hair can also act as a conductor for a witch or wizard’s dreams.
> 
> In a similar vein: holly is also associated with the dream-world as are amethysts... at least according to some of the people who believe in things like crystal healing. I’ll admit that I’m not sure if this is the consensus among woo-peddlers, but it showed up on the sites I used to research that kind of thing.
> 
> Umbridge issuing an actual threat to Harry was added since I'm can't quite remember any mechanism other than his own pride that was keeping him quiet and, while I do think that would play a role, I don't think a senior politician would trust to that kind of luck. It makes more sense to me that she would try to keep him quiet some other way.
> 
>  _Dream Strider_ is the name of a book that describes the dream magic and potions of a demonic cult in Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim; the name was simply too cool not to knick.
> 
>  


	2. Chapter 2

It didn’t take long for Hermione to identify a problem with her experiment. Once she noticed it, she kept carefully quiet as she tried to work out a solution. There was an irrational part of her that insisted that she couldn’t let Harry see her floundering for an answer.

Whenever she tried to examine that feeling she never managed to come up with an explanation for her own behaviour that satisfied her, she only knew that she wouldn’t be able to bear Harry not seeking her out for advice any more if he realised that she really didn’t have _all_ the answers.

Unfortunately for Hermione, Harry could be annoyingly perceptive at the most inconvenient of times.

“Hermione?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Um, I was just wondering… how are we going to get a look at our dreams once these stones record them?”

_Drat! He just had to ask._

“I’m not entirely sure yet.” Hermione admitted, every word sticking in her craw.

“Oh. Why not?”

Hermione took a deep breath and forced herself to be honest with her friend. “I used the runic array that magical camera’s use to record pictures. The problem is that they usually record them to film, not amethysts. I have no idea how we’re going to develop these stones.”

“So the stones are like negatives?” Harry asked in a tone that suggested that he was just confirming a thought. Hermione nodded in confirmation and watched Harry’s shoulders slump in dejection. “I think I’ve already mucked mine up then. I haven’t exactly been careful about keeping it away from light.” It took Hermione a second to follow Harry’s logic.

“That shouldn’t really be an issue, Harry; at least I hope not. I haven’t been treating my dreamcatcher like a roll of film waiting to be developed either.” Hermione felt a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as Harry visibly brightened.

“They’re more like slides then?”

For a moment Hermione’s brain felt like it was both racing at warp speed and trudging through molasses. _Could that be it? Could it really be that easy?_

_There’s only one way to find out._

“Harry, I-… I think you may have just solved our problem.”

“What?! Really?” Harry looked so gobsmacked that Hermione couldn’t help herself; a giggle escaped her lips and she just had to hug her best friend.

“Really.” She managed through her laughter. “When everyone’s gone to bed we can try out your idea and see whether the amethysts really are like slides.”

“O-okay… um, Hermione?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“What was my idea again?”

Hermione couldn’t have stopped the wave of affection that swept through her if she tried at Harry’s half-joking probe.

“Tonight we’ll take the amethysts and shine a light through them, like a projector.”

Harry paled, and Hermione felt his muscles tense under her hug. “Maybe we could pick someplace less public than the common room for that?” he gulped out. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with the possibility of someone wandering in while we’re watching our dreams.” Harry’s nervousness did a lot to bring Hermione back to earth. She considered what he was saying for a moment and conceded that he had a very good point.

“I think you’re right again, Harry. How about we both spend some time thinking of places we could try this, okay?”

“Okay.” Harry agreed with obvious relief. Hermione gave him one last squeeze in reassurance before stepping back with a happy smile.

“I like it when you let your intelligent side out to play, Harry.” she teased him. “It suits you.” Harry’s cheeks pinked in response, delighting Hermione for reasons she wouldn’t look at any closer than her reluctance to let Harry realise that she made mistakes like anyone else.

:-:-:-:-:

Harry hated his detentions. True, no one save the most masochistic would be particularly happy carving words into their own flesh night after night, but that wasn’t the worst of it as far as the young Gryffindor was concerned; he was no stranger to painful punishments after all. No, the worst part was having to avoid his friends.

Now that his evenings with Umbridge left his hand leaking blood, Harry found himself forced to wait for the wound to scab over so that there was no chance of a tell-tale red trail giving the game away. Harry had already tried incanting “ _Episkey_ ” until he was hoarse. It hadn’t helped even a little. _Maybe I’m not doing it right. The problem with that being that I have no way to ask for some lessons without_ someone _getting suspicious._

This had left Harry with the admittedly risky solution of hiding out in a classroom near the Fat Lady until the bleeding slowed enough that he could clean his hand and feel confident that his secret would be secure for another night. He spent the time trying to think of solutions to the problem he and Hermione had discovered with their project. It was both a productive use of his time and kept his mind away from the yawning horror that was _what will I do when the bleeding becomes so severe that a wait won’t cover it up?_

As he sat there, staring at nothing in particular, ignoring the musty smell of the dampness that was already starting to creep in all over the castle and working through the problem of where to try and view their dreams, Harry began to notice something peculiar. In between blinks the room seemed to be gradually organising and cleaning itself. Nothing ever changed so drastically that he would know immediately that it had happened, but the gradual process was starting to become noticeable to someone who had been the Dursley’s main cleaning implement. A slight suspicion of what might be going on made itself known and Harry acted on it before he could worry too much about looking like an idiot.

“Is there a house elf here?” he asked the room at large. Half a breath later a familiar figure faded into view in front of the desk Harry was sitting on. “Dobby!”

“Dobby was not expecting the Great Harry Potter, sir, to notice him.” the little elf admitted bashfully. “Great Harry Potter, sir, looked very deep in thought.”

“Not quite that deep.” Harry grinned ruefully. _With the way my brain was going around in circles I can’t really claim that I was doing any kind of worthwhile thinking._ “It’s good to see you again, Dobby.”

“Oh? Is there something Dobby can be doing for the Great Harry Potter, sir?” Harry ruthlessly forced down the giggle that wanted to escape as his mind compared Dobby’s eagerness to a puppy wagging its tail. _It’s actually a good question._ Harry briefly considered asking Dobby for help in healing his hand but discarded the idea almost immediately. _If Dobby’s working for the school then Umbridge can give him orders. I don’t want to know what someone like that would order him to do to himself if she were to find out that he knows about my detentions._

That left only the other problem that had been occupying Harry’s thoughts.

“I don’t really know if it’s something you can help with, Dobby. I was just trying to think of a place where Hermione and I could work on some personal experiments without risking someone else walking in.” Dobby’s eyes grew wide for a moment.

“Dobby believes Dobby may know of such a place, sir.” the little elf squeaked out.

“You do?! Dobby, that’s fantastic!” Harry exclaimed, the pain in his hand forgotten as excitement flooded through him. “Can you tell me where this place is? Better yet, can you show me?”

Dobby’s features firmed into something that might have been resolve. “For Harry Potter, sir, and his miss, Dobby will show Harry Potter the Come and Go Room.”

“Can we go now?” Harry asked, his excitement bubbling out of him. Dobby bowed deeply before trotting to the door where he looked over his shoulder as if expecting Harry to follow. The young wizard didn’t need another invitation and hurried after his friend.

Dobby led Harry a surprisingly short distance away from Gryffindor Tower; though he couldn’t account for exactly why, Harry had expected to take at least a few stairs. That wasn’t the only thing he had expected that didn’t seem to be coming true. Harry had been sure that Dobby had mentioned a room, but here they were standing in front of a blank wall.

“Um, Dobby? Why are we stopping here?”

“The Come and Go Room is not always being there, Harry Potter, sir. Harry Potter must call it.”

“Ok…” Harry stared at the wall for a moment before caving to the inevitable. “Dobby? Do you know how I’m supposed to do that?”

“Oh, yes, Harry Potter, sir!” the house elf gushed. “Harry Potter must walk back and forth three times while asking Hogwarts for the room he is wanting.”

“That would be that ‘Come and Go Room’, was it?”

“It can be any room Harry Potter, sir, is needing. Harry Potter must only think of what he needs.”

Harry nodded as if the explanation had made sense to him. _Here goes nothing_ he thought bracingly. He started walking along the wall, feeling more than a little foolish as he did so. _Hogwarts? If you can hear me, I could really use a place where Hermione and I can experiment with our dreamcatchers. It would have to be a place where we can be sure that we won’t be interrupted. We’re going to try shining a light through a crystal as if it’s a slide… do you even know what a slide is?_

It briefly occurred to Harry that most people would classify trying to have a conversation with a castle as somewhere on the spectrum between futile and delusional. Suppressing a sigh, he turned around for another pass and felt his jaw drop open and hang there. A door had appeared where Harry was absolutely sure there had _not_ been one before.

“Harry Potter has done it!” Dobby cheered, apparently oblivious to Harry’s current inability to process what he was seeing. The little elf rushed forward to push at the door before turning back to look at Harry in confusion. “Is Harry Potter, sir, not wanting to see the inside?”

Harry forced himself to focus and step up next to his friend. “You’re right, Dobby. We should take a look. Why don’t you do the honours?” He saw a flash of an emotional expression on the elf’s face before a turn of the elf’s head obscured the sight.

“Yes, Harry Potter, sir.”  Dobby agreed with a catch in his voice, pushing the door open. Harry would have spent a little more time making sure that his friend was alright but his thoughts ground to a halt once again at seeing what was behind the door.

“Just wait ‘til Hermione sees this.” he breathed out in wonder.

:-:-:-:-:

“Where are we going, Harry?” Hermione wheedled. “Surely you can at least give me a hint?” Harry did his best to hide the grin that was trying to split his face. His friend was rubbish at managing her curiosity and he couldn’t help but take advantage of this opportunity to tease her a little.

“That would ruin the surprise, Hermione.” He told her impishly. Hermione’s resulting pout made him want to snigger madly.

 _No, don’t do that. It would ruin the fun._ Harry was perfectly aware that if Hermione really felt she needed to know where they were going before heading there that there would be no chance of dragging her along like this. If he wasn’t mistaken, one corner of Hermione’s mouth kept quirking up as well. _She’s trying as much as I am not to laugh._

“Pleeeaasseee?” Hermione whined playfully, drawing out the word and grabbing Harry’s arm to tug on it.

“Really now, Hermione, patience.” Harry admonished happily. “We’ve arrived already.” He watched Hermione’s head move as she looked around them before turning a confused gaze up at him.

“You want us to perform our experiment in the middle of a hallway?” she asked in confusion.

“Just watch.” Harry grinned. He slipped his arm out of Hermione’s grasp and began walking up and down in front of the wall the way Dobby had shown him. On the third pass a door appeared. Harry heard a gasp and turned to find Hermione gaping at the sight in front of her.

“How did you find this place?” Hermione breathed out in wonder.

“An old friend told me about it.” Harry smirked, thoroughly enjoying her reaction. “Come on. You’ve not even seen the inside yet.”

Inside the room had become a comfortable sitting room with a couch sitting just behind the centre of the room. In front of the couch stood an object Harry would describe as a pedestal. On top of the pedestal four metal pins curved up towards each other. Harry knew without having to try it out that the amethysts that hung from their dreamcatchers would fit perfectly into that claw, allowing anyone sitting on the couch to easily shine a light through them with a wand.

Smiling at the way Hermione seemed to be trying to look at every part of the room at once, Harry gently drew her towards the couch. It wasn’t until Hermione’s bum landed on those cushions that her eyes sought out Harry’s.

“This place is amazing. It’s absolutely perfect for what we want to do.” Harry was surprised to see Hermione start and then pale as a horrified expression stole over her face. “We’re not the first.” she gulped out, tears starting to form at the corner of her eyes. “There’s no way we could be if someone’s already gone through the trouble of creating such a set-up.”

Harry crouched down in front of his friend and took both of her hands in his. When she met his eyes he spoke as reassuringly as he could. “Hermione, this place is called the Room of Requirements, or the Come and Go Room. It exists only for those who have need of it and only to answer that need. I seriously doubt that anyone else could have called this particular room.”

“A-are you sure?” Hermione hiccupped. There was an undercurrent of desperate hope in her voice.

“I am. If you prefer we could get Dobby in here to confirm it for you.”

“Dobby? Harry, tell me you didn’t order the house elves to help you.” Indignation had steadied Hermione’s voice more than hope ever could as she fell into the distraction Harry had placed before her. Despite having braced himself for exactly that reaction even as he spoke the words, Harry regretted that he had disappointed Hermione, even if that would hopefully be short-lived.

“It was something that came up during a late-night conversation with him, Hermione. You know I’d never order him to help me.”

Hermione studied him for a moment before her shoulders slumped. “You’re right, I do know that. I’m sorry, Harry.”

“It’s okay.” he demurred. _I basically goaded Hermione into that reaction; she shouldn’t have to apologise._

“It really isn’t.” Hermione disagreed with a small smile. “Still, perhaps we should get on with what we came here to do?”

“Yes!” Harry agreed, eager to leave this awkwardness behind them. Hermione shifted over slightly to make some room for him and Harry took a seat next to her. He took his dreamcatcher from his bookbag and carefully placed the amethyst into the holder. The lights in the room dimmed as Harry drew his wand. “Ready?”

“Yes.” Hermione’s voice sang with tension and Harry found himself forcing the incantation for the Torch Charm from his throat.

“ _Lumos_.” As the beam of light struck the stone a shimmering substance seemed to explode out from it. Harry was so shocked by the suddenness of its appearance that he dropped his wand. In the absence of light, the scene in front of them blinked out of existence. It took Harry several heartbeats to process what had just happened. Feeling like he was moving in daze, he watched his trembling hand reach down and pick up his wand. He raised back to the stone. “ _Lumos_.”

This time he was more prepared for what was going to happen. It didn’t make the fog-like substance filling the room any less impressive.

“We did it.” Harry murmured out in shock as he stared at the way the stuff in front of him settled down, drifting along on gentle, unseen currents.

“I-… but there’s nothing but mist.”  Hermione protested, distractedly.

“Yeah, but it looks just like the memory strands Dumbledore put into the Pensieve last year.” Harry didn’t really register the way Hermione’s head snapped around to focus an intense stare on him.

“Are you telling me that this is what our thoughts look like in a magical tool?”

“Well, in one of them at least.” Harry agreed awkwardly. “I’m not really sure if it carries over.”

“It’s more than I’ve got.” Hermione snorted. “How did you read memories in the pensieve?”

“You touch the memory and it sucks you in.” Harry remembered. “We may want to be careful. Last time I got stuck in Dumbledore’s memories and he had to come get me out.” Hermione stayed quiet for a while, staring at the silvery swirls in front of them. When her head came up she gave a resolute nod.

“If you can’t pull me out, make sure you get the Headmaster.”

“Hermione! No!” Harry dove for his best friend’s arm as she flung it forward. He wasn’t quick enough to stop it passing through a tendril of the dream mists. Surprisingly, Hermione was still sitting there next to him as the fog winked out of existence again, his abrupt movement having pulled his lit wand away from the stone again.

“I guess that this stuff doesn’t react the same way as a pensieve.” Hermione mused, looking at her fingers. “Could be because this is a projection. You described the pensieve as more of a bowl containing, for lack of a better description, ‘liquid’ thoughts, right?” Those big, brown eyes looking at him for confirmation kicked Harry’s brain back into gear.

“Are you ruddy _insane_?!” he practically screamed in Hermione’s shocked face, grabbing her shoulders. “We have no idea what could happen here! What if you got sucked in and I couldn’t get you out?!” He was heaving in breaths, feeling like he was drowning on dry land. “What if I’d lost you?” he whispered in a small voice. With his fear spoken out loud, Harry couldn’t help but pull Hermione towards him, as if holding on to her tightly might prevent it from coming true.

“You’re not going to lose me, Harry.” Hermione’s muffled voice tried to reassure him. A little worried that he couldn’t hear her clearly, Harry’s eyes darted down towards his best friend and widened when he saw that he was crushing her to his chest. He jumped back, letting her go as his face flamed.

“Sorry.” he muttered, embarrassed by the way his body had reacted without thinking. _What’s wrong with me? I never used to do that._

“It’s okay, Harry.” Hermione said with a small smile. “Just remember that you’re not getting rid of me that easily. Even if I had been sucked in, you told me Dumbledore knew how to get me out.”

“Out of a _pensieve_.” Harry couldn’t help the defensive tone in his voice. He couldn’t quite pinpoint why he had reacted so viscerally to the idea of Hermione disappearing and it was making him uncomfortable.

 _Really? Voldemort’s back and you don’t know why you might be worried about people you care about suddenly disappearing?_ a snide part of his mind asked. Harry felt like slapping himself. Now that he had an explanation for his feelings, he could rationalise them a lot more easily. While he had been working through his thoughts, Hermione had been studying him with a gentle look on her face.

“You’re right, Harry. I’ll try to be a bit more careful. It’s still an experiment after all and proper precautions should be taken.” she told him when she saw that his attention had returned.

“Thanks.” Harry smiled in return. “I’ll try to keep from jumping all over you because I’m overreacting.” His apology won him a chuckle.

“I think we reached a good place to stop anyway.” Hermione offered. “We’ve realised that there is a good chance that we built a new magical tool and that’s already an accomplishment worth celebrating. I suggest we spend some time just basking.” Hermione then led by example as she settled on the couch and made a show of getting comfortable.

Shaking his head with a rueful smile Harry joined her and promptly found his friend’s legs draped over his own, a playful light dancing in her eyes. They spent another hour just enjoying the privacy the Come and Go room provided them compared to the common room, happily chatting without having to worry about listening ears that might pick up references to things like Grimmauld Place or its owner.

When they headed back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry felt like they had met Hermione’s goal of basking in their accomplishment quite well. He also knew that Hermione wouldn’t rest on her laurels for long, an assumption that was supported by the words she spoke just before the Fat Lady came into view.

“This weekend we’ll have to spend some time figuring out how to access those dreams.”

Harry just nodded in reply, aware that resistance was futile as long as there was still more to discover about their creation. He could even admit that his own curiosity was itching at him as much as Hermione’s seemed to be doing to her.

:-:-:-:-:

 _It’s been a long week_ Hermione thought to herself. Ever since she had seen the results of The Clandestine Research it had felt she was floating along on those misty currents everywhere she went. _We may actually have done it… we may actually have created a new magical tool before we’ve even taken our O.W.L.s._

Hermione knew that her celebrations could still turn out to be premature; they hadn’t seen any images from the dreamcatcher after all. The fact that Harry had recognised the fog that they _had_ seen was a good enough indication for the young witch that they were on the right path though. _I just know that we’ll manage to get an image. We might even get one tonight._

_If I can get Harry away from the common room, that is._

Harry _probably_ wasn’t delaying their departure on purpose, but he had been caught up in a conversation with Ron. Hermione was taking great care not to listen to closely to what the two snickering boys were discussing. She just assumed that they were either up to no good or using language she wouldn’t approve of and left it at that.

This studied disinterest didn’t stop her from sneaking glances at the pair in the hope that Harry would notice and cut the whole thing short already. Some small part of her acknowledged that even if Harry had noticed her looking and realised that she was eager to get going, he probably wouldn’t be abrupt in dismissing their friend, for another, Harry wouldn’t want to draw suspicion to their Clandestine Research.

Finally, Ron’s yawns became so obvious that Harry began laughingly pushing him towards the stairs. Ron put up a slightly amused resistance, but it wasn’t difficult to see that he was eager enough to see his bed himself.

After Ron had finally disappeared up the stairs to the boys’ dorm, Harry turned around and Hermione felt herself pinned to her seat by that mesmerising green gaze.  She shook herself with a silent admonishment. _You’re being silly, Hermione. Now that Harry’s finally ready to go, you’re letting tension get the better of you._

Looking up she realised that Harry had managed to cross the room in the time that she’d been gathering herself and was now standing in front of her, holding a hand out to help her up.

“Sorry it took so long.” he murmured, pitching his voice low enough that the rest of the common room wouldn’t hear. “I didn’t want to just fob Ron off with some poor excuse.”

“I know, Harry. I even agree.” Hermione smiled in reassurance as she took Harry’s hand and let him draw her up next to him.

“So I imagined you shooting me impatient glances?” Harry asked, amusement thick in his voice.

Hermione gave a faux-offended gasp. “Harry James Potter! Are you telling me you kept a lady waiting on purpose?!”

“Allow me to make it up to you.” Harry grinned as he pulled her towards the portrait hole by the hand he still had a hold of. “I’ll take you to a world of dreams.”

Hermione could barely contain herself as laughter almost overtook her at Harry’s attempt at suave conversation. She barely managed to contain it to semi-smothered giggles and snorts as they made their way from a scowling Fat Lady to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls to dance. Harry was starting to look a little aggrieved by now and, perhaps realising that Hermione was for the moment unable to focus on the room they would need, took it into his own hands to perform the ritual that called the Room of Requirement. Once inside the peals of laughter she had desperately been restraining escaped Hermione and she collapsed onto the couch.

“It’s not _that_ funny.” Harry complained from somewhere off to her left.

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Hermione managed, almost hiccupping from her uncontrolled mirth. “I just imagined you using that line on some poor, unsuspecting girl and, well…”

“Hmph, and what girl aside from you would hang around me long enough for me to even try a line? I’m dangerously insane, remember?”

“I think you underestimate yourself, Harry.” Hermione smiled. Reading the protest he was about to offer in the line of his frown, Hermione did the first thing that came into her mind to prevent them getting side-tracked by an argument: she laid a finger across her friend’s lips. “Why don’t we just get started?” she asked, some residual amusement still tingeing her voice.

Harry was quiet for a moment before nodding and taking his place on the couch the Room had created for them. Hermione sat down next to him and took her dreamcatcher out of her pocket.

“I think you should be the one to apply the Torch Charm, Harry.” she suggested, placing the amethyst in the holder. “I expect that we’ll be less surprised by dreams that aren’t our own. I’m hoping this will allow us to preserve observations that would otherwise be lost by a surprised flinch.”

“That’s… a little worrying actually.” Harry muttered.

Hermione reached out and gently pulled on Harry’s chin until he was facing her. “Harry, I trust you not to tell everyone what you see of my dreams here. Do you trust me?”

“Of course!”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about. Shall we?”

Harry cast one last, searching glance over Hermione before nodding and placing his wand against her amethyst.

“ _Lumos_.” Once again a swirling, ephemeral mist filled the area in front of them. “Okay… what do we try now?” Harry asked, his eyes fixed on the mist. Hermione chewed on her bottom lip in thought.

“Well, when dad put on a slide show of our holiday he spent a bit of time lining up the light and the slides. Maybe we’re shining through the wrong bit of crystal?”

Harry shrugged and slid the tip of his wand across the surface of the amethyst. The mists swirled turbulently as the light moved.

“Wait! Go back! Did you see that?!”

“Yeah. I saw it.” Harry’s voice sounded like he didn’t quite believe what he was saying. His wand was already moving, trying to find the spot he’d just been in when they’d seen something appear in the mist.

“What did it look like to you?” Hermione asked, desperate for confirmation of what she thought she’d seen, but unwilling to prejudice Harry’s observation.

Harry shot her a slightly uncomfortable look. “A bubble, I guess. I don’t know.”

“I think that a bubble is an excellent description.” Hermione tried to encourage him. “I think that you could certainly describe the way it disappeared as ‘popping’.” Harry looked a little steadier at her reassurance.

“I thought that I saw our transfiguration class in that… bubble. I saw McGonagall at least.”

“Professor McGonagall, Harry.” Hermione chided lightly. “I saw the same thing.” A good fifteen minutes later Hermione had to call a halt to Harry’s efforts to relocate that sweet spot. “Harry? Do you think that we could call it a night? The way the currents of that Dream-mist keep shifting is starting to make me dizzy.”

Harry’s arm immediately dropped to the sound of a relieved sigh. “I don’t think we’re any closer to finding that bubble again either.” he admitted before casting her a sidelong glance. “Dream-mist? Is that the name you settled on?”

“Well, do you have a better idea?” Hermione demanded defensively.

Harry shook his head and held up his hands in surrender. “This is your experiment, Hermione. I trust you if you say that is the name we should give it.”

Something felt off about the whole interaction to Hermione, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. “Why are you so focused on the name anyway?”

“I- well, I figured you were going to be writing a book about this since we managed to find something and… and I got curious.” Harry looked thoroughly embarrassed.

“A… book?” Hermione asked, feeling lost.

Harry nodded, a slight crease forming on his brow. “This is completely new, isn’t it? What we’re doing?” He gave a shrug. “I figured someone would need to write the book on it and it’s hardly likely to be me.”

Hermione felt like a warm liquid was slowly filling her up until she was unable to contain it anymore and, with a wordless cry of joy, grabbed Harry in a tight hug. “Harry! You’re brilliant!”

“I am?”

“Yes! You’re absolutely right that we quite literally get to write the book on this subject.” As Hermione calmed down she tried to order her thoughts, her hands unconsciously pulling at her hair. “You also made a good point that Dream-mist sounds somewhat less than academic.” She wracked her brains for a moment before turning back to her friend. “What would you call it?”

“Me? I’m not exactly ‘academic’, Hermione.”

“Maybe not, but you managed to consider the possibility of writing a book before I did, so I’m still curious.”

“Yeah, I still can’t believe it.” Harry joked before his face fell into a pensieve expression. “How about the Mists of Sleep?” he asked after a moment, immediately shaking his head. “Never mind. That sounds pretentious.”

“I think it sounds dignified.” Hermione disagreed with a slight smile. “The Mists of Sleep resolving into…, um…”

“Granger Bubbles?” Harry offered. “I thought scientists name things after themselves.”

“Usually the scientific community names effects for famous scientists, rather than the scientists doing it themselves.” Hermione disagreed.

“Well, I named them, didn’t I?”

“Alright.” Hermione agreed with a laugh. “But only if we find a phenomenon that we can name after you as well.”

“I’m famous enough as it is, Hermione.” Harry reminded her with distaste.

“Would it truly be so bad to be known for contributing to mankind’s understanding of magic and itself?”

Harry’s mouth opened and closed silently as he tried to come up with an answer. Hermione shook her head slightly in fond amusement.

“We don’t have to decide right now. We might still find something that makes us want to assign different names to the phenomena we discover.”

“Okay.” was Harry’s instant and relieved approbation of that idea.

“Come on.” Hermione suggested as she stood up. “We might be pushing the boundaries of human understanding, but the professors will still give us detention if they catch us out after curfew.” It got her a bark of laughter from Harry who picked up her dreamcatcher and held it out to her.

Together the two friends made their way back to Gryffindor Tower, keeping studiously silent to avoid drawing the paintings’ attention. They said a quick goodnight in the common room before heading up to their respective dorms.

Hermione didn’t waste any time getting ready for bed. As she laid her head on her pillow her mind pictured a large, leather bound book with _Through the Eyes of Morpheus by Hermione Granger and Harry Potter_ stamped across its cover.

:-:-:-:-:

**_Excerpt from Hermione Granger’s research notes_ **

_Day 22_

_The dreamcatchers have been hanging over our beds for a little over a month now. Harry and I have yet to find a reliable way of identifying possible confluences in the Mists of Sleep that may resolve into Granger Bubbles. I have also yet to find a way to stop Harry from gleefully using that name._

_We have observed that these bubbles are starting to occur more frequently. Working hypothesis: the more of our dreams the amethysts record, the greater the density of bubbles and hence the greater our chance of observing one. This may imply that the amethysts could have a maximum capacity to record._

_Observations are presently limited to no more than a few seconds. It is unclear whether this is due to minute movements of our wandlight or due to some inherent property of the medium. Harry has proposed that since the Mists of Sleep appear to have currents that the bubbles may be carried on these flows and thus move out of range of the light. ~~I really do love it when he demonstrates his intelligence like that.~~ _

_Images contained in the bubbles so far have mostly been of scenes we encounter on a daily basis such as classes, meals and social interactions. Occasional images reflect family or acquaintances not present in Hogwarts._

_So far we have no observations of images that can definitively be called ‘constructed’ or ‘imagined’._

_Quidditch season has started up again. It will be more difficult for Harry to find time in the evenings to work on our ~~Cla~~  research. On the other hand, his physical exertion may lead to different sleep quality and different dreams. _

_For now there is very little we have conclusively determined and much left to explore._


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m not really comfortable with this, Harry.” Hermione whispered tensely.

“We don’t have much of a choice if we want to continue on with this project.” he replied in the same tone.

“Isn’t there anything you can do to avoid those detentions?” Judging by the tone of the question, she already knew the answer.

“No.” It was a large part of the reason why the two friends were currently sneaking through the halls of Hogwarts under his invisibility cloak. Between their two schedules there was just no chance for them to spend some time in the Room of Requirements without violating curfew. It had taken less time than Harry had expected for Hermione to inquire after the use of his cloak as an option. The way she was worrying right now though suggested that she wasn’t as reconciled to her decision as she had first appeared.

“I’m a prefect. I shouldn’t be sneaking around and breaking the rules.” Hermione sounded like she was mostly fretting to herself, so Harry just left her to it. When they got to the stretch of wall where the Room could be summoned Harry decided that it was a good opportunity to distract his friend from the thoughts that were troubling her.

“Why don’t you summon the room this time, Hermione?”

Hermione blinked in surprise as she looked around, apparently taking in the fact that they had already arrived at their destination. Harry gave her a slight nudge to get her going. It took two more passes in front of the wall than usual for the door to appear, but by the time it did Hermione was looking a lot more focused. This was reinforced by her taking charge once they got inside.

“Why don’t we start with your dreamcatcher?”

“Okay.” Harry shrugged as they took their usual places on the couch. He placed the amethyst in the holder and Hermione touched her wand-tip to the stone.

“ _Lumos_.” They watched for a while, but the bubbles kept showing slice-of-life moments, a second or two at a time. After twenty or so minutes of this Hermione removed her wand and made some notes on a parchment. To Harry it looked like she was recording how long they’d been watching and the amount of bubbles they’d seen. “Right. Let’s get to mine, shall we? I’d rather not be out of bounds for too long if we can help it.” Hermione said determinedly, already replacing Harry’s stone with her own.

Harry decided to just go along with it for now and lit his wand.

For the first five minutes, Hermione’s dreams mostly resembled his own; then something happened that they hadn’t seen before. The mists parted to reveal Hermione, standing in a field. The colours of her surroundings appeared to have been washed out by nightfall. The sky above her was dark and the high grass dancing in the wind around her was pitch black. Hermione looked around her for a moment before breaking into a run. The bubble containing the image popped before Harry and Hermione could discern too much more of the scene.

“That was… not what we usually see.” Hermione mused. Harry nodded absently.

“I don’t think it was everything though.” he said, feeling his way through his thoughts. “It looked like there was more to the dream that we can’t quite see yet.”

“Not that I think you’re wrong, but our dreamcatchers don’t exactly work like a radio that can be tuned to receive more of a certain signal.”

“No. No, they aren’t…” Harry murmured as he realised what he was going to have to say. “Our minds might be though.” Hermione’s eyes met his own, burning with curiosity.

“What are you thinking?”

“Snape wants me to clear my mind every night, for my Occlumency.”

“And you think that if we try that our dreams will become clearer?” Hermione asked consideringly.

“Maybe. If we figure out how to do it.” Harry sighed. “I haven’t really been having a lot of success with that so far.”

“Hmmm.”

Harry knew that hum: Hermione’s mind was currently consumed with working through a problem. He decided that his best course of action here was to sit back and wait. This kind of furious focus from his best friend usually prefaced a moment of sheer brilliance and that was more than Harry was going to be able to contribute.

“I’m going to have to do some research…” Hermione murmured, her eyes focused past the walls on something Harry couldn’t see.

“Would you like to continue watching our dreams or is this the kind of research that you want to get done first?”

“It’ll take some time for us to get to the point where our proficiency in Occlumency is going to be sufficient to have some kind of impact, so we don’t need to put everything on hold until we’ve got it down. In fact, it would be better if we don’t.” Hermione mused, sounding a bit more present. “Still, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get back to Gryffindor Tower before we’re missed.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile fondly at the sharp tone in which the last sentence had been delivered. “Let’s go then.” he agreed, swinging the invisibility cloak over his shoulders and holding out one end in an invitation to join him. Hermione ducked under the cloak with him and the two friends made their way back to their dorms quietly. Hermione’s goodnight sounded a little distracted, but Harry didn’t blame her for it.

As he was hanging his dreamcatcher back over his bed he couldn’t help but wonder in some amusement how Hermione would describe the process of their research in the book she would inevitably write on the subject. _‘After breaking the rules repeatedly, we found that the best way to approach the recording of dreams is…’_   Harry’s thoughts trailed off as he realised that he had no idea what Hermione would be writing as the best way to record dreams. All he really knew was that she _was_ going to find a way.

:-:-:-:-:

Hermione couldn’t quite believe it. She had shifted through dozens of books in the library; had even slightly abused Professor Vector’s trust and used her permission slip for the Restricted Section to look for more than advanced Arithmantic theories. As all that effort continued to yield precisely no result, her frustration had mounted. On this Saturday morning that frustration had boiled over and Hermione had decided that she was going to pass the hours that Harry and Ron would spend at Quidditch practice reading something for no other reason than her own wants.

She had settled on _Dream Strider_ , the book Harry had gotten her for her birthday. It was taking her longer than usual to finish it due to the increased workload from her classes and her research, but now she was going to spend some time simply reading and absorbing new ideas.

It didn’t take long for Hermione to lose herself to the happy pleasure of reading, her mind drifting along on the currents of the author’s words. The first hour and more passed without Hermione shifting from the comfortable armchair she had chosen for her perch. It was during the second hour that her mind snagged on the words she had just read.

A torrent of ideas began roaring through the young witch as she read the passage again; and again, just to be sure. _This is it! This is going to be exactly what we need, I can_ feel _it._ The familiar glow of finding the vital clue to solving a puzzle settled in Hermione’s chest as she studied the next several pages as intensely as she would have if it were guaranteed to show up on her O.W.L.s.

By the time Harry and Ron returned, drenched and muddy, Hermione had even moved on to trying out some of what she was reading about. The Gryffindor Quidditch Team entering the common room was never a quiet affair and it did not fail to attract Hermione’s attention. Seeing Harry, standing _right there_ , caused Hermione’s excitement to bubble over. She rushed across the common room until she was standing almost toe to toe with him and began babbling.

“Harry! I’ve got it!”

Harry looked at her with confusion in his eyes. “What’ve you got, Hermione?” he asked, shifting his broom on his shoulder uncomfortably.

“I’ve found-…” Hermione almost bit her own tongue as she realised that she was about to gush about Harry learning Occlumency in front of a full common room and the Gryffindor Quidditch team, not to mention the project. “Um, I’ll tell you later?” she muttered, an embarrassed blush stealing across her cheeks at the realisation of her near miss. For some reason this caused a lot of laughter from the rest of the team around her friends. “What?”

“That has to be the least subtle I’ve ever seen you, Hermione.” Katie Bell managed through her giggles.

“It’s the first time I’ve seen her try at all.” Alicia snorted, only to be swatted upside the back of the head by Angelina.

“No being catty.” the captain scolded. “It’s not like Harry’s caught on yet.”

“And you accuse me of being catty?”

“What are you lot on about?” Ron demanded, angry on Hermione’s behalf. Hermione could only wish that he wouldn’t. She could feel the blush on her cheeks deepening at the Chasers’ comments, unable to come up with a response that would both convince them that she _wasn’t_ trying to get Harry into a broom cupboard _and_ keep the secret of their Clandestine Research.

One of the twins clucked his tongue, laughter dancing in his eyes. “Dear, oh dear, Fred. Looks like we skipped a part of Ickle Ronnikins’ education.”

“Wait, we were supposed to teach him this stuff?” the twin who must have been Fred asked in faux-confusion.

“If not his wise and handsome elder brothers, then who?” George asked with equally feigned nobility.

That broke his twin’s self-control. “While I appreciate your compliment, you’re on your own for this one.” he snorted out.

George cast a look over Ron, who was currently glaring at them as his face slowly turned red with anger. “I see what you mean. Should we take pity on young Harry though?”

“It’s funnier if we don’t.” Another pair of headslaps put an end to the comedy routine, or at least announced an intermission.

“That’s enough out of the two of you as well.” Angelina scolded. “You’re about to pop my Seeker’s head.” Hermione’s attention was drawn to Harry whose face had turned a deep red, while his expression was almost screaming that he wanted to be anywhere but here. _This has gone on long enough._

Hermione stepped up to her best friend and lightly touched his wrist to get his attention. She hated that he could barely look at her under the onslaught of teasing, even if it hardly surprised her. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up, Harry? Then we can find somewhere quiet, okay?”

“Okay.” he managed to choke out before practically bolting. Ron shot the other Quidditch players an annoyed glare before stomping off to join his mate. Once the two boys had disappeared from view, Hermione whirled around to level a glare of her own.

“Oh, don’t even bother, Hermione.” Angelina cut the younger witch off before she could get started. Hermione caught Alicia chivvying the twins away with a murmur that sounded suspiciously like ‘girl talk’.

“There’s nothing going on between Harry and I.” Hermione responded coldly, ignoring the Quidditch Captain’s warning. “I would appreciate it if you’d stop insinuating that there was.”

“Please, Hermione. ‘Nothing’?” Alicia smirked.

“Yes. Nothing.” Hermione gritted out, leftover embarrassment making her want to scream the words.

“Ease off, girls.” Angelina warned her friends. “You know that with the way everyone’s been having a go it Harry it probably _has_ to be nothing.” For a brief moment Hermione found herself scrambling to follow the older witch’s logic.

“Come on.” Alicia protested. “Surely we can tease them? It’s not like the Prophet’s got someone listening in _right now_.”

“You think that Harry and I are hiding a relationship from the Daily Prophet?” Hermione blurted out. The three Chasers shared a conspiratorial look with her. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Yeeaaahhh, protecting Hermione, totally _not_ a Harry move. Oof!!” Alicia drawled with a roll of her eyes until Katie elbowed her in the side. “Fine.”

Katie stepped up to Hermione and whispered. “Just so you know, it _is_ obvious if you know Harry. We spend more time with him than any other girl except you. We can see the way he changes around you.” The Chaser shrugged apologetically. “It’s definitely doesn’t look like ‘nothing’.”

“Clearly you don’t know Harry as well as you think you do.” Hermione snapped harshly, while trying to keep her voice low.

“We don’t know him as well as you do, no.” Angelina shrugged. “We definitely know him better than someone like, say, Chang.”

“Speaking of people who don’t know Harry as well as they think they do…” Katie muttered.

Shock crept into Hermione’s glare as her attention snapped over to the youngest of the Chasers. “What was that?!”

“Seriously?” Alicia asked with a cocked eyebrow. “You pick up on our teasing in half a second flat, but you haven’t noticed Chang trying to drape herself all over your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Hermione muttered distractedly as her mind flew through every interaction she had witnessed between Harry and the Asian girl this year. She got so caught up in her review that she barely took any notice of the Chasers leaving for their own showers with murmured goodbyes. In fact, when Harry came down several minutes later he found her still standing there, staring off into nothingness as her thoughts ran wild. At the touch of his hand on her elbow she almost jumped out of her skin.

“You okay?” he muttered, still looking tense.

“Harry. Yeah, you just startled me.” she admitted. His cocked eyebrow conveyed another question to which she just shook her head. “Let me just gather my things and we can go find somewhere to speak in private.”

Without waiting for Harry’s response, she hurried to grab her bookbag, quickly stuffing in the book she had been reading. Feeling the weight of her schoolmates’ stares on her, Hermione applied a similar haste to her exit from the common room, slowing only to check that Harry had fallen into step behind her. After that her pace didn’t slow until she had finished performing the summoning ritual for the Room of Requirement and stormed inside.

Hermione flung her bookbag into the cushions of the couch with a dull thud. The sound of the impact brought a realisation of exactly how affected she was by what had just happened in the common room. Deliberately, she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, identifying and acknowledging the emotions she was experiencing, before allowing them to drain away slowly.

When she opened her eyes again, a much-calmed Hermione saw Harry standing off to the side, observing her carefully. She tried to smile reassuringly. “Thank you for being patient, Harry.”

He simply nodded in reply, his eyes never leaving her.

“What I wanted to tell you before-… before I remembered I was in the common room, was that I managed to find some introductory exercises for Occlumency; at least, I hope they are.”

Harry was quiet for a moment, only the shift of his eyes telling Hermione that he had gone from studying her to processing her words. “Did you just use them?”

“One of them, yes.”

“Why aren’t you sure that these are occlumency exercises?” Harry’s focus seemed to have come back to the here and now, and Hermione found herself its sole object once again.

“I actually found them in that book you got me for my birthday; _Dream Strider_?”

“I remember.”

“Well, these are meditations are Sādhanā for self-knowing and-”

“They’re what?!” Harry’s focused look slipped, and he appeared completely lost for a moment.

“Um, the steps toward a goal; according to the book at least.” Hermione waited for Harry to nod in dubious acknowledgement before continuing. “The Hogwarts Library didn’t contain any books on Occlumency, not even in the Restricted Section,” and that _still_ rankled, “so I had to rely on what you’ve told me about Occlumency. It sounded similar to what was described in the book, and I rather thought that even if it wouldn’t help, it wouldn’t hinder us either.”

Harry lapsed back into quiet consideration for another long moment before meeting Hermione’s eyes once again. “How do we do this?”

Hermione could only beam in appreciation at her best friend. He hadn’t just agreed with her, he’d done it after thinking it through; how could she ask anything more of him? Buoyed by this thought, she sat down and patted the cushion next to her as she prepared to teach Harry what she had learnt. It was almost enough to make her forget the events earlier in the common room.

:-:-:-:-:

Harry discovered that he had a lot of cause to practice the techniques Hermione had found. Defence Against the Dark Arts had been his best subject for the first four years of his Hogwarts career, but with this year’s professor all he’d really learnt was a hatred of irony.

The book they were being forced to read repeatedly emphasised that when faced with danger one should approach an authority figure and request aid. The continuous stream of detentions revealed that authority came with its own dangers.

Between doing his best to keep his temper in the face of Umbridge’s increasingly ridiculous excuses for assigning him detentions and the torture of sitting those detentions, Harry was building up a lot of anger that needed controlling.

More and more often he found himself reaching for his ‘Occlumency training’ for reasons that had nothing to do with his dreams. His greatest consolation during these episodes was the fact that Umbridge’s reasons for giving him detention _were_ getting increasingly ridiculous; it meant that his self-control was improving and denying her the easy excuses. It also helped his pride that he was better able to hide his pain while using the Blood Quill.

The other thing that kept him from jumping off the Astronomy Tower was his friendship with Ron and Hermione. Each in their own way did their best to distract and support him. To a lesser extent he felt a similar gratitude to the Quidditch Team for letting him work himself into the dirt and forgetting about everything else for a while.

The distraction that Quidditch offered him was the primary reason why Harry was currently marching through Hogwarts with sore muscles that contrasted with an odd feeling of lightness in his step.

In fact, Harry might go so far as to say that his muscles aching was a wonderful feeling. Quidditch practice invariably left him feeling a bit sore at the beginning of the season, but it was a pain that felt full of promise. This year it felt even better when he considered his best mate walking back up to the dorms with him.

Ron was unusually quiet as made their way through the castle, but Harry wasn’t worried. He knew that even the veterans on the squad needed some time to get used to regular practices every year; Ron would be adjusted in no time.

His mind drifted to his planning for the rest of the week. Angelina had scheduled the Gryffindor Quidditch Team’s use of the pitch so that they would have three practices per week; one in the morning and two in the evenings. Another evening would be spent in Astronomy class and Harry knew that he would be in detention more often than not. Add in the way the professors were piling on the homework and Hermione’s prefect duties and there just wasn’t going to be a lot of time left over in which to work on her project, even with their use of the invisibility cloak. Harry let out a subconscious sigh as he tried to make all the puzzle pieces fit in his mind.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you and Hermione going out?”

Harry barely managed to catch himself before he went sprawling on his face as he tripped over empty air. “What?! Where did you get that idea?!”

Ron came to a stop and regarded Harry with a thoughtful frown. “Did you miss what happened in the common room a week ago? It’s apparently been the most popular rumour in Gryffindor for the past month or so. You two keep disappearing together at night and coming back in well after curfew. Everyone’s best guess has been that the two of you have been looking for broom cupboards.” Ron trailed off and shrugged uncomfortably, avoiding Harry’s eyes.

“And you believe them?” Harry wasn’t sure what to make of this revelation. There were rumours about him and several girls floating around at any given time and this wouldn’t be the first time people had connected Hermione to him, but Ron usually paid those rumours just as much mind as Harry and Hermione did: none at all.

“I didn’t… I don’t. I just have no idea what the two of you are getting up to and-… well, that’s why I’m asking you, innit?”

Harry realised that he and Hermione had been foolish to expect that Ron wouldn’t notice their absence. Of course, their friend would feel left out. Still, Harry wasn’t entirely comfortable with revealing what they were really up to either; definitely not without consulting Hermione.

“Hermione and I aren’t spending our time in broom cupboards.” Harry told Ron decidedly. Ron nodded slowly.

“I believe you, mate. Knowing Hermione… let’s just say I couldn’t imagine her sneaking out for a snogfest after hours.” Harry snorted in amusement at his friend’s joke. Hermione’s reputation for respecting the rules was well earnt after all. “So, what _are_ you doing?”

 _Damn. Didn’t think of an answer to that._ “We-, um, we’re having… movie nights.”

“Movie nights? Is that some kind of muggle thing?” Ron looked completely confused. In all honesty, Harry had blurted out the first thing that had come to mind. Looking back on his story now he felt that he could at least live with this as a deception; it was fairly close to the truth after all, making it feel less like he was callously lying to Ron.

“Yeah. It’s when you-“ Harry was forced to pause as he couldn’t really give Ron a detailed explanation of what a movie night entailed, or at least what Dudley had claimed they entailed, without then also coming up with a decent explanation for why Ron couldn’t attend. “It’s a kind of muggle study session.” _We’re doing research so in this case it’s still sort of true… yeah…_

“You’re studying? On top of all our homework?” Ron asked incredulously. “Since when are you so eager to do schoolwork?”

“Since Hermione kept me up late last month for that Potions homework.” Harry said, firmly resolving to stick as close to the truth as he could. “She suggested this and I went along with it because, well, I felt kind of bad that we never do anything she enjoys despite how much time she spends sitting through us talking about Quidditch.”

“Fair point.” Ron admitted with a wince. “Think she’d appreciate me joining in?”

Harry thought his answer through for a moment. “I think she’d appreciate it more if you did something else with her. I mean: it feels like we owe her more than one thing, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, kinda does.”

“Why don’t you just keep an eye out for an opportunity? Hermione’s bound to suggest something sooner or later and you can jump in.” Ron looked a little happier already. “Besides, that would give us ‘spew’ that we’re all doing together, movie nights for her and me, Quidditch for the two of us and being prefects and whatever you or she comes up with for the two of you.”

Ron visibly brightened as Harry spoke. “Hanging out with Hermione is rubbing off on you, mate. That was nearly her level of clever.”

“Thanks.” was Harry’s sardonic reply.

“No charge.” Ron grinned back. “Still, imagine if we could find something for the three of us to do that didn’t involve hacking off the kitchens…”

Harry laughed and the two friends resumed their trek, banter flowing easily between the two of them and reaffirming their bond.

Upon their arrival in the common room, Harry was tempted to head straight for Hermione to warn her about the conversation he had just had with Ron. Instead he headed up to his dorm and took a rather hurried shower first.

A wave of relief washed over him when he returned downstairs and saw that Ron hadn’t been as quick. Hermione was sitting at her favorite table and Harry made his way over to join her. She looked up distractedly from her work as he sat down next to her.

“Oh, Harry. How was your practice?”

“Practice was fine, Hermione.” Harry replied. His voice must have carried some of the tension he was feeling because Hermione gave him a more focused look. “I need to tell you something; _now_.”

Hermione looked around the room for a moment before waving her wand and muttering an incantation under her breath. “I’ve put up a Silencing Charm. People will know that we’re trying to keep something private, but they won’t be able to hear us; not unless the twins come in with their Extendable Ears before we’re done.”

Harry nodded and took this opportunity to explain what had happened as succinctly as he could. By the time he had finished speaking Hermione looked to have forgotten all about the homework lying in front of her. She stayed quiet for a long moment, massaging the bridge of her nose.

“I admit that I’m a little disappointed for not realising this would happen.” she finally breathed out. “Even more so because of how obvious it seems in hindsight.”

Harry was left to shrug uncomfortably. “Yeah, well, not thinking in terms of gossip is one of the good things about you as far as I’m concerned.”

Hermione smiled at him. “Thank you, Harry; for trying to make me feel better and for coming up with a good cover story.”

“It’s not _that_ good.” Harry muttered. “The first time Ron starts up about movie nights to Dean the story’s going to collapse.”

Hermione’s smile turned into a smirk. “Harry, what is your usual reaction to Ron talking about muggle concepts?”

“He might get them wrong a lot, but he’s going to mention where he heard about it in the first place when he gets corrected.”

“All of this assumes he’s going to talk about it at all. What is it that’s really bothering you?”

“There are enough people calling me a liar. I don’t care about almost any of them, but if either of you ever thought the same thing…” Harry just shook his head, unable to complete his sentence.

“Oh, Harry.” Hermione’s arms wrapped around him. “Look, don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll make sure to come up with a project I can tackle with Ron that will keep him occupied and we’ll tell him what we were really doing before we tell anyone else.”

“Thanks. I still hate lying to him… even if it _was_ my idea to start with. It’s just that now that the dreamcatchers turned out to work unlike everything else in Divination, I’m not so sure that he’d still laugh at us.”

Hermione was quiet for a long moment before answering. “He might, or he might not, but I’d rather keep this between us. If we’re right about all of it, we may get to see some pretty personal things in our dreams; things I don’t want to share with just anyone.”

“Ron’s not just anyone, is he?”

“No. He’s not you either though. Would you be comfortable if we introduced Ginny into this?”

Harry shook his head vigorously. Ginny was certainly a friend, but Hermione was-… well, _Hermione_. “If that’s the way you feel about it, then I’ll drop it.”

“That’s all I ask.” Hermione responded impishly as she sat back. She looked over his shoulder and cocked an eyebrow. “ _Finite Incantatem._ If we want to discuss anything else it’ll have to wait. Ron just came down.”

Harry turned around and waved their friend over. Hermione had effectively made her point and Harry would be keeping their experiments between the two of them, but that was no reason to pass up an evening with both his best friends.

:-:-:-:-:

 “Thanks for helping me, Ron.” Hermione smiled. The redhead was currently seated across from her, with an open book on the table in front of him.

Ron’s head came up to shoot her a smile that couldn’t quite hide the glazed look in his eyes. “Yeah, no problem, Hermione.”

Hermione had decided to make optimal use of her time tonight since yet _another_ detention of Harry’s meant that there was no opportunity to continue their experiments. A quick review of matters she still wished to address had led her in short order to the conclusion that the greatest causes of emotional distress that she currently felt were the lack of a practical component in their Defence Against the Dark Arts course and the fact that sneaking out at night was improper at best for a prefect. One of those things she had no control over. Whether she could do something about the other remained to be seen.

“I was kind of surprised you’d have me looking through the Hogwarts rules for loopholes though.” Ron offered up in clear hopes that she would elaborate.

Hermione found herself swallowing her first response which would have been to honestly admit that she wanted to be able to spend nights out of bounds with Harry without getting in trouble for it. The impulse, both the response and her urge not to share it with Ron, felt at odds with the image Hermione had of herself. _I can deal with that later_ she told herself firmly. _For now, I should be as honest as I can with Ron._

“I don’t like the way Professor Umbridge keeps giving Harry detentions. A review of the school rules might help us help him in some way and even if it doesn’t, we’re prefects and a better understanding of the rules can only improve our performance.” Every part of that statement was true. _Some of what I just said simply… doesn’t_ necessarily _directly relate to my motivations for starting this._

“Good point.” Ron grumbled, shifting into a more alert posture in his chair. “She’s gotten as bad as Snape when it comes to reasons for giving Harry detention.”

Hermione smiled to see the way Ron refocused on his studies for their friend’s sake. _I wish I could get him to show that kind of focus in everything he did._ She briefly indulged in imagining what that kind of Ron would be like and found herself coming up with something she was sure was a caricature that did her friend no justice. _Rather than coming up with odd fantasies about Ron, I should follow his example and focus._

The two of them continued on with their study until the opening of the Fat Lady’s portrait drew their attention to Harry entering the common room. Hermione’s eyes darted over his figure as she took in his pale, drawn face, his hunched shoulders and the empty look in his eyes.

“Harry!” Ron exclaimed, a grin on his face. “How was it, mate?”

“The usual.” Harry muttered, his shoulders twitching in what was probably supposed to be a shrug. “I’m turning in; I’m knackered.”

Before Hermione could gather her wits enough to respond, Harry had breezed past her and headed up the stairs. _He looks so tired. Maybe I should try to talk to him next time we’re in the Room?_

“There’s something he’s not telling us.”

Hermione looked up in surprise at Ron’s tense, worried mutter. “I mean, he obviously doesn’t have to tell us everything, but there is no way that you get that tired from _just_ writing lines. Something is very wrong there.”

“I know.” she admitted sadly. _If Ron’s noticed it too, then I’m probably not imagining things._ “I have no idea what we can do about it though.”

“We need to get a better look at what happens in his detentions. Maybe we can sneak in using Harry’s invisibility cloak?”

“How would we convince him to lend it to us at the exact moment he just happens to be in detention?” Hermione asked skeptically. She wasn’t willing to just ignore the suggestion and maybe Ron had already considered this, but it was a real problem that needed to be addressed.

“Oh yeah…” _There goes that idea._ “Maybe we could ask a House Elf to s-… take a look.”

“Say ‘spy’ if you mean ‘spy’, Ron.” Hermione sighed. “We might as well stay honest with ourselves if we’re going to discuss this.”

“Fine!” Ron gusted out. “So? Are we asking a House Elf to spy on Harry’s detention?”

“It’s risky…” Hermione said, hoping Ron would listen to her concern for Harry rather than jumping all over her ethical objections to the status and treatment of House Elves.

“How is it risky?! Not being seen is what House Elves _do_.”

“We’re not their Masters, Ron; they’ll listen to the professors over us and we have no idea what orders they’ve already been given. I’d really like to avoid letting Professor Umbridge find out about it if we’re going to spy on her. She’d probably find a way to turn it into more detentions for Harry and whatever’s going on there, they aren’t good for him.”

“Then what do we do?!”

Hermione could empathise with Ron’s frustration; it echoed her own after all. “We keep thinking. Just because we haven’t hit upon the right answer _yet_ , doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

Ron’s face twisted into an expression of disappointment. “I really hope you come up with something then, Hermione. Took me ages to even think up the House Elf thing.”

“I’m working on it.” Hermione admitted as her gaze drifted to the stairs Harry had just climbed.

:-:-:-:-:

The first ‘movie night’ after Hermione’s discussion with Ron saw her studying Harry to the point where he noticed and apparently felt forced to comment.

“Hermione? Is my hair lying down neatly or something?”

Hermione snorted in amusement; trust Harry to come up with the most ridiculous possible way of addressing her staring. _I think this is what Sirius sees when he says that Harry’s like his father._ “It’s as messy as it’s ever been, Harry. I apologise if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“You’re not making me uncomfortable, Hermione; you’re making me curious.”

 _That’s not what the worry in your eyes says, Harry. I’m a little scared to explore that worry though…_ “I was just wondering what goes on inside of your head. Care to show me?”

Harry rolled his eyes at her and placed his amethyst in the holder, before sitting down with a slight look of challenge in his eyes that made Hermione determined to prove herself, even if she had no idea by what metric she might be judged. She joined him on the couch, her heart thrumming blood through her veins.

Half an hour later that tense excitement had rather thoroughly ebbed from her awareness. Harry’s dreams had shown the usual bubbles of daily life popping in the Mists and nothing more.

“I think that’s enough, Hermione.” Harry sighed next to her. “I don’t think the contents of my brain is that interesting after all.”

“I disagree.” Hermione protested mulishly, not wanting to put up with Harry’s usual putting himself down. She did remove her wand from the stone and cancel the Torch Spell though. “Guess we’ll try mine then?”

Harry just nodded quietly and watched Hermione replace his amethyst with her own. They switched positions, Harry leaning forward to place his wand on the stone while Hermione reclined against the backrest.

“ _Lumos_.” The space in front of them filled with the familiar mists that they had been staring at for minutes on end already. _I wonder if we could find something like a fingerprint in the way those currents run?_ Several bubbles formed and popped, demonstrating to Hermione that her mind and Harry’s weren’t really all that different, no matter what he might try to imply. Then a larger bubble than usual began to form.

The mists cleared from the image to reveal a familiar image: Hermione in a night-drenched field of tall grass. Harry heard his friend gasp and knew that she’d recognised this too. _Guess this is when we find out if our efforts at occlumency bear fruit._

The scene began much the way Harry remembered. The Hermione in the dream looked around her and broke into a run. The mists began to encroach on the image, but before they closed the view shifted to show what she was fleeing: a dark figure, riding a dark horse. Even outside of the dream the feeling of looming danger was inescapable. Silence fell heavily on the two friends as the Mists returned to drifting on those unknown currents.

“Maybe I was a little overeager when it comes to remembering every dream.” Hermione muttered.

“We probably should have anticipated nightmares.” Harry agreed. “At least you seem to be sleeping through it.”

An uncommon awkward silence settled between the two friends as they tried to process the eerie scene that had just played out in front of them. Hermione tried to force her thoughts to move on, but the chill running down her spine refused to be so easily corralled.

“You know, Ron and I came up with a Quidditch trick after practice the other day. We’re trying to get good enough to bounce the Quaffle off our brooms.” Harry’s babbling rush of words caused Hermione to goggle at him in surprise. She couldn’t understand where this was coming from. Harry _knew_ that she didn’t care a whit for Quidditch. “We’re hoping to get the Quaffle down the pitch faster if we don’t have to catch it first so that we can catch the other team on the hop.

“Harry.” Hermione said, her gentle tone not hiding any of the firmness in her voice. He stopped for a moment to look at her, a guilty flush stealing over his cheeks. “What are you doing?”

“Well, I thought that… if you’re not thinking about that dream it might not bother you tonight? I know you don’t really like Quidditch; I just couldn’t come up with anything else on the spur of the moment.”

Hermione felt like something inside of her chest was melting. It might have been an awkward attempt, but she thought it was an incredibly sweet gesture regardless. “Thank you, Harry.” she murmured with a smile before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Seeing Harry blush in response pushed the world back onto steadier footing for Hermione and the smile that put on her face wasn’t likely to shift before her eyes closed in sleep tonight. “We should get back to the common room. More rumours wouldn’t make our experiments any easier.” _And I’d really like to write in my journal, I think…_

:-:-:-:-:

**_Excerpt from Hermione Granger’s research notes_ **

_Day 34_

_Harry’s idea that we use Occlumency training to sharpen the images of our dreams seems to be panning out. The observations of our more abstract dreams are lasting longer and showing more detail. More research would be necessary to determine true causality, but initial indications look convincing._

_If Occlumency does turn out to be a necessary step in recording useable images it may limit the use of these dreamcatchers to those that already have a degree of control over their minds. Should this be the case then subsequent development paths become clear. The dreamcatcher could either be a useful tool for measuring progress in Occlumency or would need to be tweaked to become more universally accessible._

_All of this is of course dependent on our observing a dream sequence that is both long and detailed enough for the kind of analysis espoused by Divination and Psychology. For now we will continue our experiments optimistically._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sādhanā is a yogic practice. The word literally translates to “a means of accomplishing something”. It does not include any specific practice, rather it is a descriptive term, as I understand it at least. I am no more a yogi than any other kind of religious expert so all we can really say is that I’ve twisted the word for my own purposes as much as I do J.K. Rowling’s work.


	4. Chapter 4

The days and weeks settled into a rhythm for Harry. The Quidditch Team was working up towards their match with Slytherin to open the season. He knew that some of his teammates had doubts about Ron’s ability to perform under match conditions, but Harry felt sure that anyone who could jump into a dark opening with full knowledge that there would be monsters, not once but twice, would be able to settle into the needed mindset. _And even if Ron_ does _turn out to have stage fright, I’ll still be able to help if I can catch the Snitch early._

A less pleasant reality was that he was still receiving three or four detentions every week. Umbridge had even taken over a few detentions that Snape had assigned Harry. It was an action that saw her unknowingly also take over the top position on Harry’s least favourite teachers list from Snape.

Privately, Harry suspected that the only reason that he wasn’t saddled with a detention every day was so that his flesh had more of a chance to heal, making it more painful to scratch it open again. _At least I’ve managed to not drag anyone else into this._

He was also grateful that, whatever the reason might really be, Umbridge wasn’t cutting into his free time more than this. With the amount of homework Fifth Year brought with it, Harry didn’t doubt that he would have faltered and fallen behind if he’d had to attend a detention every night.

Not that he was making it any easier on himself by spending every free minute he had working on the dreamcatcher project with Hermione. No matter how much of his time it swallowed up though, those evenings with Hermione were the last thing Harry would be prepared to give up. _Maybe I’ve gotten too used to the annual insanity that seems to follow us around, but sometimes this project feels like the only good thing that’s happening this year._ Objectively, Harry knew that he’d experienced plenty of good things that weren’t tied to the project, but objectivity and logic were more Hermione’s bag anyway.

Woven through this cacophony of daily life were his dreams and Occlumency practice. Contrary to his lessons with Snape, practicing the techniques Hermione had taught him were islands of quiet in Harry’s day and it didn’t take long for him to start honestly enjoying the work he was putting in to those practices.

After his practice he felt calmer and more focused, which made it easier to get through everything else he was facing. He had hoped that this practice would also help him in his lessons with Snape, but the Potions Master was just as acerbic and critical as he’d ever been. It was disappointing, but the other benefits of the practice, were enough that he was going to keep doing it regardless. _Ancients know that I’ve been blowing up at every little thing lately._ Harry knew that he was feeling angry this year, angrier than he could ever remember. He had even blown up at his friends when the Order had finally seen fit to collect him.

Harry knew that Ron and Hermione probably _couldn’t_ have told him any more than they did, but even thinking of how abandoned he’d felt over the summer at this remove in time was enough to make his blood boil. It scared him.

Taking a moment to work on the techniques helped him calm down when that happened. They didn’t completely eliminate the anger he was feeling, but it calmed him down enough to remember that going off on his friends wasn’t the answer either and for now that was enough. _Maybe Snape knows how to stop feeling angry, but if he does he’s not_ using _that trick._ Harry was slowly starting to believe that maybe Occlumency wasn’t going to be the answer to the anger he was feeling. That scared him too.

A part of him still wanted these flashes of rage to somehow be connected to his ability to see Voldemort in visions. He didn’t want this anger; didn’t want it to be _his_. If he couldn’t keep it out with Occlumency then it would be undeniably his own, his first step on a path that could very easily turn him into something he hated.

That he was on a dark path, or at least that others were sure that he was, was more than clear to Harry. What else could have caused Dumbledore, commonly considered one of the greatest minds in the wizarding world, to force Snape, a man who hated Harry, to give Harry one-on-one lessons in an extremely obscure branch of magic? Not only that, Sirius of all people endorsed these lessons. For people who had such disparate opinions of Harry and each other to align behind a single goal took some doing; in Harry’s experience only a Dark Lord had sufficed so far and even that had been a close call, what with Snape being a Death Eater at first.

If he’d been showing some signs of turning into the next Voldemort then it made sense to Harry that, for the first time that he could remember, people had decided to teach him what he needed to know before it was too late. It was a theory that fit neatly with the coalition of Sirius, Dumbledore and Snape, but unfortunately made his worry about his lingering rage feel all the worse.

 _Maybe I should talk this over with Hermione. She’s done more to help me with Occlumency than the person who is technically teaching me._ Unfortunately, every time Harry seriously considered this course of action it felt like his heart seized up in a fear that he couldn’t quite define the source of. _I’ll wait and see if it comes up at some point. I can always decide then_ Harry thought to himself, valiantly ignoring the part of his mind screaming that this was a cowardly cop-out.

He decided to go looking for Hermione, reminding himself that he wasn’t trying to run away from his feelings; because running from something that didn’t have a body would be a ridiculous, impossible idea… right?

In the end Harry was spared having to answer his own question by finding Hermione, predictably, in the library.

“Hey Hermione.” Harry said quietly as he sat down next to her.

Hermione’s gasp and start told Harry that he hadn’t managed to avoid startling her. “Harry!” she breathed out, her respect for the institution of the Hogwarts Library keeping her from exclaiming in a louder tone.

“Sorry.” Harry winced. “I tried to be quiet.”

“I know, Harry.” Hermione admitted. “What did you come here for?”

“I was hoping we could have a movie night….”

“That’s a great idea!” Hermione beamed, before darting a guilty look in the direction of the librarian’s desk and continuing in a whisper. “Can you wait for me to finish this essay?”

“Of course.” Harry leant back in his chair and smiled at Hermione, already feeling a lot more at ease. He could happily watch Hermione work for a few hours. Seeing the way she got focused on hunting down some arcane bit of knowledge was downright soothing to Harry. As he watched though, he soon realised that something was wrong.

Hermione wasn’t turning the pages of her reference books, her quill hovered over her parchment without scratching out a comprehensive and detailed explanation of whatever point she was making and her face was slowly starting to turn pink. The whole picture had something so wrong with it that Harry wasn’t too surprised when Hermione sat up straight with a jerk almost as sudden as when he had surprised her a few minutes earlier. What Harry hadn’t expected was for Hermione to start packing away her things.

“You okay, Hermione?”

“I think we should just get our movie night started. I’ll get back to this later.” Hermione’s voice was pitched a little higher than usual and she wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. Harry felt the question welling up in his throat but managed to swallow it. _Hermione has a right to her secrets. With how she just avoided the question I’m going to assume that she doesn’t want to talk about it; at least not where anyone can hear._

Once Hermione had packed everything into her bag the two friends made their way up to the Room for an uncommonly early start to their experiments. They stopped off at Gryffindor Tower to collect their dreamcatchers but didn’t linger in the common room longer than it took to tell Ron the edited version of where they were going.

“Why don’t we start with yours since you were so eager to do this?” Hermione suggested once they were settled on the couch in _their_ room.

“Aww, but I wanted a look at your mind.” Harry teased, enjoying the way Hermione’s cheeks pinked again after they had just settled back into their more usual colour while he drew out his own amethyst. He set it in the holder and indicated that Hermione should feel free to set her wand against the stone with an inviting motion of his hand. That Hermione did so was perhaps less a result of his cajoling than her own curiosity, but it didn’t lessen Harry’s admittedly childish enjoyment of the moment.

In his distraction, Harry barely paid attention to the Mists of Sleep billowing out from the amethyst. It wasn’t until they started to move that his shocked gaze moved towards the room around them.

The Mists were disappearing as if they’d been ripped away in a gale. The entirety of the Room was filled by a long corridor made of black marble. At the end of the corridor Harry could see a chillingly familiar door.

The entire scene disappeared as Hermione jerked back from the amethyst, the light of her wand no longer able to fuel the projection. Dreading the look he was about to get, Harry turned to face his best friend.

“Harry, what was that?” Hermione’s eyes were wide and panicked, just as he had feared.

“That would be the dream that I’m supposed to stop with Occlumency.” he admitted lowly.

“I can see why! That is _not_ a normal dream.” Hermione exclaimed.

“I know, Hermione.” Harry hated this moment. He hated it every time he had to experience it with Snape, every time he had to admit to Sirius that he just wasn’t making the progress they all expected him to. It felt like his stomach shriveled up inside of him. The thrum of his blood rushing through his veins felt more pronounced than it normally would. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead and the world around him began to seem more and more distant. Harry already knew that he was a massive disappointment, but it hurt to be reminded of it so viscerally.

“Harry?” A gentle hand rested on his forearm. “Harry what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, no you don’t, Potter.” Something in Hermione’s tone made Harry want to pull away even more, but the hand left his forearm to become a pair of arms wrapped around him in a hug. “You’ve gone pale; you’re shaking; this is _not_ ‘nothing’.”

“It’s not your problem.” Harry tried. Hermione gave him an extra squeeze. “It’s not.” Another squeeze. It felt as if Hermione would be perfectly content to stay here all night until he confessed to something. _Maybe I can just give her a part of the truth and escape._ “I’m just no good at occlumency.” Harry shrugged as he tried to lean out of the embrace. _If she lets go I can make a break for it._ Hermione did not let go.

“Oh, Harry. You are doing marvelously at your Occlumency exercises.” her voice murmured in his ear while fingers ran through his hair. “Not immediately being able to fight off a talented wizard five times your age with Occlumency doesn’t mean that you’re failing, do you understand me?”

“Yes, it is. You’ve not seen Snape or Sirius every time I have to admit that I’ve not managed a speck of progress. If I was any kind of good at this Dumbledore wouldn’t be avoiding me like I’ve got Dragon Pox.”

“If that’s the way they’re acting then they’re the ones that have failed; not you.” Hermione sounded so utterly sure of what she was saying that Harry felt something still inside of himself. “If you can’t let yourself believe that yet, then can you at least trust that I will always fairly evaluate your academic progress?”

“I trust you.”

“Good. You’re doing wonderfully. I promise.” Hermione’s words produced a strange reaction in Harry. While he still couldn’t convince himself that he was making any significant progress in what was clearly the most important branch of magic that he was being taught right now, he couldn’t bring himself to dismiss Hermione’s opinion either. The clash of these two forces left him somewhere in a limbo, unsure of how to feel. “Would you feel better if we spent some time working through the exercises together?”

 _What have I got to lose?_ “Sure, Hermione.” he agreed. “We can do that.” His best friend’s arms slipped away until they were just resting on his shoulders as Hermione pulled back to beam at him. Despite the fact that he was unconvinced that even Hermione could help someone as hopeless at this as he was, Harry forced himself to focus. _I might not be any good at this, but I can at least give Hermione my best effort here._

:-:-:-:-:

The first time they encountered a dream of Harry’s that wasn’t just a mental regurgitation of everyday life took the two friends by surprise. Despite the fact that she had been reassuring Harry that she was sure that his Occlumency was progressing as well as her own, Hermione discovered that she had subconsciously given up on Harry’s dreamcatcher producing results anything like her own. So, on that evening, as they sat examining the languid currents of Harry’s sleeping mind, Hermione hadn’t paid any special attention to the emergence of another bubble, other than to count another observation.

As this particular bubble developed Hermione noticed that it was an image of Harry in the water. At first, she thought it was from the second task of the Triwizard Tournament the year before. The surroundings certainly looked the way she imagined an underwater vista of the Black Lake would.

The way Harry jerked back in surprise at what he was seeing caused her to take a better look though and then she noticed: he wasn’t transformed the way he would have been under the effects of Gillyweed. Once she had realised the significance of that detail Hermione started picking up on other things that indicated that this was a ‘constructed’ dream.

The image of Harry in the dream wasn’t wearing his robes or swimwear, it was wearing the muggle clothes he usually did when there was no reason to pull on his school uniform. The lakebed was completely flat in every direction and covered by seaweed, but not any kind that Hermione had ever seen before. The strands were thin, sleek and black. They seemed to move as collective rather than being individually affected by gravity and the currents.

The bubble lasted long enough that the two observers saw Harry’s image beginning to swim down towards a point just over the horizon and establish that he didn’t seem to be coming closer to that horizon, no matter how far he progressed, before it popped. Silence reigned as the last wisps of the dream dispersed back into the Mists.

Hermione was the first one to recover. “Harry! That was fantastic! I told you that you were doing well with your Occlumency.” she exclaimed as she pulled her friend into a celebratory hug.

“Oh, come on, Hermione. Having a dream doesn’t prove that I’m doing anywhere near as well as you at Occlumency.” Harry protested.

“Oh really?” Hermione grinned. “I suppose I must be doing poorly as well then since you’ve managed a longer sequence than I have so far.”

“What?”

“Ha! You didn’t even notice!” Hermione crowed, happily squeezing Harry even tighter. “You should be more confident, Harry.” The boy in her arms looked as shell-shocked as she’d ever seen him and she couldn’t keep a giggle in at the sight. It took a while for Harry’s mind to catch up to what it had just seen. When it did, he once again proved to be a lot smarter than he generally let on.

“So, what do you think it means?”

Hermione looked up at him in surprise, not having expected that question. “I don’t know, Harry. With how unreliable the data collection has been for dream interpretation in the past it could mean nothing, or it could be that the symbolism that Divination has been using for ages might be the best interpretation available to us right now. It could even be something completely different.” she sighed out. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, that’s why we started this right? So that Ron and I would be able to actually do our Divination homework?”

Hermione had, in fact, completely lost sight of that original objective. For weeks now, the thrill of discovery had been what pulled her on as she worked on developing this new magical tool.

Harry had apparently been oblivious to the path Hermione’s thoughts had taken. “If you think that the stuff they have us reading for Divination’ll help us figure out what we’re seeing I suppose I’m willing to have another look at that Dream Oracle book.”

“It’s as good a guess as any other we have.” Hermione sighed.

“Might as well get back to the common room then.” Harry grinned at her. “I can get the book and we can have a look through it.”

Hermione desperately wanted to disagree; to tell Harry that it would be for the best if they just lounged on the couch rather than sitting amid their peers, at least some of whom would still be awake. In the end she couldn’t deny that what her friend was suggesting was a relevant part of their research. After all, if dreams didn’t carry any meaning then all they’d invented was an extremely personal home video projector rather than a therapeutic tool or resource of equivalent value.

“Alright.” she finally agreed less than enthusiastically. “Let’s go.” They made it to the common room without incident. It was almost empty, except for a pair of seventh-years studying for their own exams. The pair barely looked up to see who’d come in before they sank back into their studies. Hermione sat down on one of the couches, silently lamenting that it wasn’t as comfortable as the one she’d just left behind and smelt a good deal mustier, while Harry practically ran up the stairs to retrieve his Divination text. _I don’t think I’ve ever been less excited to read a book… well, maybe that ridiculous excuse for a Defence text._

It didn’t take long before Harry was back down in the common room, almost waving his book around. Hermione suppressed a sigh and smiled warmly at him as he sat down next to her.

“The first part of the book isn’t really very important.” Harry told Hermione as he began flipping pages. “It’s all about why you should look at dreams and stuff. The second bit’s a list of things you might see in your dreams and what they could mean.”

“What will you look up first?” Hermione asked.

“I thought I’d start with seaweed. I mean, it looked pretty weird in my dream, right? Maybe that’s important.”

Hermione just nodded. _I’m glad that he’s thinking this through as much as possible, at least._ As Harry’s fingers flicked the pages over, Hermione noticed that the list of symbols looked more like a glossary than an in-depth analysis. Each entry was accompanied by only three or four lines of text. The turning pages slowed down until Harry stopped and his finger landed in the middle of one of the pages. Hermione leant over, curious despite herself, and read along.

-

_Seaweed_

_The meaning of seaweed, algae, or plants that live in water depends on the context and characteristics, but some possible meaning include: covert activity or progress that lies unseen (as seaweed lives and grows underwater) and characteristics of the particular seaweed (such as slimy seaweed representing someone who's a "slimy character")._

-

“So… Voldemort?” Harry asked, sounding confused.

“Why are you bringing up You-Know-Who?” Hermione asked in return, her friend’s question having thrown her for a loop.

“Slimy character doing sneaky things? Fits him pretty well doesn’t it?”

“Possibly. Divination is a pretty wooly subject though. I wouldn’t get too stuck on any one interpretation if I were you.”

“You’re probably right.” Harry admitted. “We don’t even know if this description makes any sense.”

“Exactly. I’ll give you an iron-clad prophecy though.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I’m going to bed.”

Harry’s chuckling left Hermione feeling rather pleased with herself; she wasn’t usually the joker in their trio, but she had managed to make Harry laugh anyway. “Guess, I’ll go too.” he chortled, ignoring the pointed looks the two seventh-years were shooting him. “Night, Hermione.”

“Good night, Harry.” Hermione made her way up to her dorm and barely managed to hang her dreamcatcher back in its place and brush her teeth before collapsing on her bed, dead to the world.

:-:-:-:-:

 _I really just want to go to bed._ Harry had been feeling exhausted all day and at this point he was only awake because there was someone who refused to let him sleep.

“Pleeeease! I swear it’ll be worth it.” that someone was currently begging with large round eyes.

“I’m just really tired, Hermione.” Harry sighed, casting a longing glance at the stairs that led to his bed.

“It won’t take long. We’ll do only one.” Hermione’s bottom lip stuck out just a little bit, making her look like she was about to cry.

“I-…” Harry didn’t _think_ that she was actually going to cry, but if she did Harry knew that it would make him feel worse than even a week of detentions with Umbridge could. “Alright. We can go, but only a short session.”

“Yay! Oh, thank you, Harry.” Hermione cheered, flinging her arms around him in a hug. Harry wasn’t sure that he’d ever get used to how easily she resorted to touching; not that he was going to stop her either. She only let him go so that he could go collect his invisibility cloak. Together they slipped out of the common room, ignoring the looks that followed them out. Harry’s feet dragged all the way over to the Room of Requirement.

“Why don’t we get this over with?” Harry sighed once they were inside.

“Cheer up. I think we might see something more substantial tonight.” Hermione tried to encourage him.

“And what’s different tonight compared to every other night?” Harry asked sardonically.

“You’re tired, grumpy and have generally looked like you’ve had a terrible night’s sleep all day.” Hermione responded eagerly before her face fell into an expression of contrition. “Sorry. I just meant to say that it’s probably a decent indication that you had a strong dream last night. Your amethyst is also showing a touch more colour than it did yesterday.”

“Pretty sure it’s not.” Harry muttered.

“Well, let’s find out, shall we?” Hermione offered with false brightness. Harry decided to forgo a verbal answer and dropped onto his usual side of the couch instead. Hermione just lowered herself next to him gracefully, as if showing him the proper way to sit down, and placed the amethyst that potentially contained his dream into the stand. “Ready?” she asked again. Harry grunted his agreement, convinced that the real answer was irrelevant at this point.

Hermione, still serenely pretending that he wasn’t acting out, placed her wand against the crystal and murmured the incantation for the Torch Charm and moved her wand over the crystal slowly. At first it looked like the usual mess of swirling images, unconnected by anything the waking mind might understand as reason. Slowly though Harry found himself leaning forward despite his exhaustion. Hermione’s wand had locked in place as something emerged from the mists that suggested the beginnings of a dream.

He watched himself walking down a hallway that looked like it might belong in Hogwarts, but which Harry was sure he’d never seen before. It went on further than he could see and there were no doors or windows set in the walls, nor were there any paintings. Instead there seemed to be the ghosts of dozens, if not hundreds, of cats patrolling along the walls at all heights. The Harry in the dream walked down the hall, barely taking any notice of the cats at all.

 _It’s no wonder I slept poorly. This is ruddy creepy, even when I’m awake._ The Mists of Sleep briefly swarmed in front of the image, obscuring it from view. When they parted again, the corridor had come to an end. That endless hallway had apparently led to a single, unimpressive door.

 _BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!_ Dream Harry knocked on the door, each contact reverberating loudly through the room. The door swung open to reveal a lightless, lifeless void behind it. Harry’s counterpart stepped into that darkness and found himself sitting at a school desk. The desk sat in the middle of a spotlight, surrounded by more darkness.

“You will write.” A disembodied, hateful voice echoed from that void. “You will write until you understand.” The Harry on the couch paled as he realised where this was going, but he could do nothing to stop the Harry in the dream from picking up a quill and stabbing it into the back of his hand repeatedly as if he was under the Imperius. Blood leaked from the wound and crawled across the desk, forming words that Harry didn’t need to read to recognise.

The Mists swirled again, and Harry was walking down the cat infested hallway as if nothing had happened. When the door reappeared Harry felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Harry!” Hermione’s shout caused him to flinch away from the sudden sound. “Harry, what’s going on? I’ve been calling you for a while now.”

“‘S nothing.” Harry muttered turning away and pulling his arm a little further into the sleeve of his robes. Out of the corner he saw hurt flash across Hermione’s face for a moment before she froze.

“Harry, show me your hand.” She commanded in a shaky voice. Harry felt like the walls were closing in on him.

“Nothing to see.” He said gruffly, shaking his head. “We should get going if we’re going to make it back by curfew.” Truth be told, he didn’t have the foggiest idea of what time it was. Getting to his bed was the only escape plan he could come up with right now though. He had a feeling that if he could find a way to get behind his hangings, behind a physical barrier, that this might all just go away. Hoping that he could get Hermione to go along with it if he moved quickly enough, Harry shot to his feet. His hope proved to be futile as he hadn’t even managed a step before he felt a hand grab his robes and spin him around to find Hermione glaring into his face with a strangely fierce mix of worry, anger and determination.

“ _Hand_.” She demanded again, the determination leeching the tremor from her tone.

“Herm-” Harry was cut off before he could get any kind of protest out past his lips.

“Don’t even try that with me, Harry Potter.” Hermione snapped. “If there was really nothing going on, you wouldn’t be trying to run out on me.” Harry noticed that tears had appeared on the edge of Hermione’s glare. He couldn’t move. Fear kept him locked in place, unable to commit to running away from the sorceress in front of him or let her know what happened to him on those nights he was summoned to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

“Harry, if you don’t show me your hand, I shall go to Professor McGonagall and inform her that that miserable hag is torturing you.”

“You can’t!” Harry gasped out, images of Hermione forced to sit at a desk carving who knew what into the back of her hand driving through his mind.

“Then show me!” In the end Harry’s mind was made up for him when he felt Hermione take his arm. Her gaze found his and dared him to stop her as her hand made its way down his limb. When she reached the hem of his sleeve she paused for a moment before lifting it up to his wrist. The whole time she kept her eyes boring into his. For a moment Harry felt as if he was floating in limbo along with his sleeve, then Hermione’s eyes darted down to his hand and widened in shock. Her free hand flew up to her mouth and Harry could hear a small gasp of shock escaping his friend through the numbness that seemed to be drowning him.

The next thing Harry knew he was being dragged into a hug. His inability to properly take in what was happening around him made him feel like he was living one of the dreams that he had watched with Hermione. They stood in silence for a while, both trying to come to terms with what had been dragged into the light between them.

“We have to tell someone.” Hermione’s voice eventually broke the silence. Harry tensed as the implications of that statement seeped through his shock.

“We can’t.” he murmured in response.

“Harry, if we tell Professor McGon-“

“She’ll tell us to keep our heads down.” Harry interrupted. “She did last time.”

“Did she know what was actually happening or did you hide it from her like you did from me?” Hermione demanded archly, stepping back so she could study his face. Harry shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter. The school can’t go against the Ministry. If the teachers get arrested there’ll be no one to protect the students.”

“And you don’t think that they’d protect you?!”

“When have they ever?” Harry watched Hermione recoil in horror at his question. “The only time any of them actively tried was when Sirius was on the loose and even then, it wasn’t a smashing success.”

“They tried to fend off the basilisk and they warned us not to go near the stone.” Hermione reminded him.

“Depends on your perspective.” Harry disagreed. “They didn’t know about the basilisk until after we dealt with it, or they pretended not to. Most of their measures could just as easily have led to more people dying. As for the stone: I still think that Dumbledore meant to let me have a crack at it.”

“Harry…” Hermione’s voice trailed off as if even she didn’t know what she was going to say in response to his points.

“Besides, none of it really matters anymore.” Harry sighed. “Umbridge has too much power and the teachers can’t afford to go against her. Those are the facts and we just have to live with them.”

“There has to be something we can do.” Hermione protested with a catch in her voice.

“There isn’t.” Harry could feel the way exhaustion was dragging at his body from lack of sleep and Hermione finding out what his detentions entailed. “Come on. We’d better get back before we’re missed.”

He was grateful when Hermione didn’t try to drag this out any further and slipped under the invisibility cloak with him. Thankfully they had to make the trek back to the common room in silence to prevent any witnesses from noticing disembodied voices. Harry’s luck held, and Hermione didn’t bring up the uncomfortable subject, even when they ducked out from under the invisibility cloak so the Fat Lady would be able to see them when they gave the password. Inside the common room he found that he couldn’t look his best friend in the eye.

“I’m wrecked. I’m going to bed.” he muttered, already moving towards the stairs. He felt Hermione’s gaze heavy on his back the entire way up to his dorm, even when she couldn’t possibly see him anymore.

:-:-:-:-:

The next morning Harry awoke to find himself just as tired as when he had gone to sleep. He let the water from the shower clatter down on his head, barely aware of what was going on. Neither did he really taste the way brushing his teeth freshened up his mouth, while his attempt to do his hair couldn’t even be called half-hearted this morning. It could even be considered a minor miracle that he managed to get his robes on the right way around.

Finally, there was nothing more Harry could do to postpone having to head down and face the day. Ron was still snoring away, and Harry wasn’t about to give Hermione a chance to corner him in the relative privacy of the common room without some backup.

Hoping to steal a march on his friend, Harry headed straight down to the Great Hall for breakfast. He spent more time pushing his breakfast around his plate than actually eating, too busy dreading the day to come to feel an appetite. _Why did Hermione have to find out right before a Defence class? If Umbridge catches on she’s going to make Hermione use one of those awful things. I don’t even want to think about what that bigot would make her write._

Hermione sitting down next to him briefly started him into attentiveness, but like the night before he couldn’t bring himself to look her fully in the face with his shame so raw. Out of the corner of his eye he caught several aborted moves in his direction and offered up silent thanks that he was being spared an interaction he didn’t think that he could handle. The only thing that kept him in his seat through the awkward atmosphere was the certainty that leaving the hall would result in precisely the confrontation he was desperately holding off.

When the bell for classes finally rang, Harry set off at a quick march. He noticed Hermione scrambling to keep up, which was honestly what he was after. The only thing that gave him a slight pause was the door to the Defence classroom. The door that had seemed so welcoming in his third and fourth year had become more dreaded than it had been in his second; that dread caused a hitch in his step every time he was forced to cross the threshold.

This time though he had Hermione coming up behind him. While he didn’t think that she would bring up what she had seen the night before this close to Umbridge’s domain he wasn’t prepared to linger too long either.

Harry quickly made his way to his usual seat and folded himself into it. He repeated his plan to himself: _keep my head down. Make sure that Hermione doesn’t have to worry about my hand anymore._ Once everyone was seated, Umbridge got up and smiled at them condescendingly.

 _“Hem, hem_ ; good morning, class.”

“Good morning, Madam Umbridge.” the class droned back in a dead tone, like they did every Defence period. Harry blinked as he felt a niggle at his mind. Something had been off about the class’s response. It wasn’t anything major or overt, but it still felt like discovering there was a new crack in a familiar sidewalk.

Harry couldn’t stop himself from looking around for the source of the whatever it was and almost flinched out of his seat when he found it. Next to him Hermione was glaring at their professor with a cold, relentless hatred that he had never seen from her before. Judging from the way her jaw was clenched, he doubted she had joined in on the response.

“Ms. Granger, is something the matter?” Umbridge asked in her most sugary tone. Harry knew that tone and his hand had moved before he could even really think about it. He managed to grip Hermione’s knee before the rage he could see boiling inside bubbled out past her lips. Brown eyes flashed over to meet green.

“Don’t.” he whispered desperately. Hermione nodded imperceptibly, and Harry felt her attention shifting back to their teacher.

“No, Madam Umbridge.” Hermione got out through gritted teeth.

“Wonderful.” Umbridge simpered before turning a malicious grin on Harry. “You know that there is to be no talking in my class, Mr. Potter. That will be another three detentions. I believe that this will have to cancel your Hogsmeade weekend as well, won’t it? Such a pity.” Harry was so focused on physically restraining Hermione’s outrage that he barely felt his own flare up. “Did you understand me, Mr. Potter? I should like you to respond with ‘Yes, Madam Umbridge’.”

“Yes, Madam Umbridge.” Harry replied wanting that woman’s attention far away from Hermione as soon as possible. He barely registered the smug nod he got in return.

“You will read the next chapter. There will be no need to speak.” Umbridge gave her usual command before she made her way to the front of the class to sit behind her desk. Out of the corner of his eye Harry noticed Hermione picking up her textbook and wrenching it open. It didn’t look like she had even bothered to glance at the page number. Instead she was currently glaring a hole in their desk.

Harry decided that this was probably as good a situation as he could currently hope for. He removed his hand from Hermione’s leg and picked up his own book. Every so often he flipped a page to make it look like he was reading and disguise that his attention was fully on the girl next to him.

Hermione never moved once for the duration of the class; never turned a page or shifted her eyes from a point that only she could see. When the bell rang Harry almost jumped as Hermione slammed her book shut and shoved it into her bag. He scrambled to catch up to her as she stalked out into the hallway and fell into step beside her.

Neither of them spoke. Harry because he didn’t want to air what was bothering him in public and Hermione because- well, he could only guess at her reasons. They made it all the way to the library before any communication was necessary. Seeing Hermione turn to head towards the stacks Harry reached out to brush her shoulder and get her attention.

“I’ll go find us a table.” he suggested in a low voice. Hermione gave him a tight nod before continuing on her way. Just as she was leaving Harry heard a low hiss that shook with tightly controlled fury.

“She. Will. _Pay_.”

 _Nothing’s going to stop her now_ he thought to himself as he moved over to claim one of the study tables. _I’m just going to have to make sure that I keep Umbridge’s attention firmly on me._

:-:-:-:-:

**_Excerpt from Hermione Granger’s research notes_ **

_Day 56_

_Will have to assess the potential of dreams in uncovering crimes._

_Researching legal precedents with regards to visions, magical imaging, legillimency and prophecies. Underlying principles are not entirely clear yet. I shan’t bother Harry with this. I could ask Ron, but I am not sure that we could conduct that research without him catching on. Both of those boys can be unexpectedly discerning at times. The risk of damaging Harry’s trust is probably too great right now and I will not risk that._

_I will rearrange my research schedule._


	5. Chapter 5

The last twenty-four hours had not been easy. Every time Hermione saw Harry hide his hand up his sleeve, every time he turned away with a look of shame, when he had left for a detention with that-… that-… even with her prodigious vocabulary Hermione couldn’t come up with a term vile enough to describe their Defence professor. After Harry had gone to bed the night before, Hermione had sat down to fill out one of the many order forms she kept on hand. This particular one had been for the apothecary in Hogsmeade.

Hermione had at least felt like she had an ally in the fight to come when Hedwig had flown into the common room just as the young witch was putting the required amount of money into an envelope with her request. The snowy owl had looked at Hermione, then at the stairs to the boys’ dorm and back to Hermione with a mournful hoot as she held out her leg. Hedwig had returned a few hours ago with the package Hermione had ordered and which now sat in her bookbag, resting against her leg.

If only everything else could have gone so easily.

Harry seemed to be somehow blaming himself for what that woman was doing to him. He hadn’t been able to look at Hermione all day and the display in class that morning… Hermione felt her blood pressure spike at the memory of the smug smile Umbridge had worn as she assigned Harry three more detentions. She had been a hair’s breadth from attacking that vile bitch and had only been able to restrain herself with her best friend’s help.

Hermione had spent the whole class engrossed in an unfamiliar activity: plotting an appropriate downfall for the person who had dared torture Harry. Unlike the boys’ evening fantasising, this was methodical, meticulous and would be achievable once she had finished. _I’m almost tempted to learn a dark curse that could flog the skin off her bloated carcass_ Hermione thought to herself viciously.

Perhaps there was the occasional fantasy involved in her planning.

In all honesty Hermione knew that, however much her rage had been stoked, physical violence was not something she would engage in for the sake of revenge. Instead she had turned to her strength: books. The one she had open on her lap right now would hopefully contain the information she needed to bring at least one of her half formed plans a step further. If not, Hermione was sure that it would contain at least a hint for the proper path to follow.

Unfortunately, she would have to admit if asked that she wasn’t reading at her usual speed; and it was being noticed.

“You sure you’re okay, Hermione?” Ron asked for what felt like the twelfth time that evening.

“I’m sure, Ron.” Hermione sighed, doing her best to keep any frustration from leaking into her voice; he was only being concerned after all. She realised that she must not have been as successful as she would have liked when she saw hurt flash across his face. Ron recovered impressively quickly.

“Alright then. Would you like to work on our Transfiguration assignment together?”

“I’ve already done it.” Hermione told him with honest regret. _Ron must be truly worried if he’s going so far as to suggest that we do schoolwork._ “I could help you if you like though.” _It doesn’t really matter how I distract myself… as long as I can get Harry sequestered as soon as he gets back._ Ron nodded unenthusiastically and moved towards one of the tables where Hermione was surprised to find that he had already stalled out his books and parchment.

Almost an hour later Hermione had to admit that Ron had put forth an impressive effort, but she could tell that he was reaching his limits by the way his writing speed had decreased and the fact that his head kept nodding jerkily as he was falling asleep.

“I think that’s enough for tonight, Ron.” she said gently, laying a hand on his arm. Ron shot up in surprise and blinked at her blearily. “You should go to bed. You’re not in any condition to continue which means you’ll just end up having to work through a lot of corrections tomorrow if you do.”

“Wha’ ‘bout you?” Ron managed through a yawn.

“I think I’ll read for a bit before heading up.” Hermione tried to reassure him. She could see Ron struggling for a moment as his weariness warred with his concern.

“Don’t stay up too late, yeah?” he finally asked.

“I won’t, Ron. Good night.”

“… all right. Night.” Ron returned reluctantly. A moment’s hesitation later he turned around and headed off to his dorm. At the foot of the stairs Hermione saw him stop and turn around for a moment. Then his shoulders slumped, and he continued on his way.

_I really am lucky to have the friends I do_ Hermione thought to herself fondly. _I’d never have guessed I could have this before I came to Hogwarts._ At the same time, she couldn’t help but be happy that Ron had left; Harry was never going to let her help him if Ron was there to see it. In that same vein she was grateful that the rest of the house seemed to be joining him in going to bed. _I might actually pull this off._

Despite her relief, Hermione was finding it difficult to make significant progress in her book. Every creak and scuff caused her head to snap up and breath to catch as she looked towards the portrait hole in the hope that it was Harry. Finally, her waiting was rewarded.

A slight noise drew Hermione’s attention towards the portrait hole for the umpteenth time. This time it had actually opened to allow Harry to stumble into the common room. _He looks awful._

Harry’s face was pale and drawn, his shoulders tight and tense and Hermione could see the way he had pulled his right hand into his sleeve entirely. She barely bothered looking at the page number where she was leaving off before setting the book down on the couch and hurrying over to her friend. She noticed the surprise in his eyes as her arms slipped around him.

“Hermione?” Even Harry’s voice sounded worn.

“Come on.” she murmured in response, stepping back to draw him along to the couch where she’d been sitting. Harry resisted her pull though.

“I really just want to get to my bed, Hermione.”

“I know, Harry, I do, but this will help, I promise.” Hermione tried to convey how much she meant her words with her eyes. She could see that Harry’s determination was wavering. “Please?”

“Not too long, alright?” Harry relented, following the light pressure Hermione was still exerting on his arm. Hermione nodded, prepared to agree to just about anything if it got Harry to accept some help. They sat down on the couch and Hermione, after a quick look to convince herself that Harry was really sitting there and not about to leave, began rooting around in her bookbag for the necessary items.

When she straightened back up she had one of the bottles Hedwig had delivered in one hand and a bowl she had slipped into her bag at dinner in the other. The fleeting thought that taking the bowl could be classed as theft was swiftly swatted out of her mind. She couldn’t use a conjured item for this.

As she poured the contents of the bottle into the bowl, Hermione noticed that Harry’s curiosity seemed to be rousing him a bit. Once the bowl was full she gently reached out for his right hand only to find it still hidden in the folds of his sleeve.

“Harry, please give me your hand.” she requested, making sure to keep her voice low in case anyone came in unexpectedly.

“What is that stuff?” Harry asked, sounding slightly wary.

“Murtlap Essence.” Hermione told him. “It can draw Dark Magic out of an injury.” This magic absorbing ability was also the reason that she couldn’t quite trust a conjured vessel. Harry’s eyes conveyed that he had understood was she was doing, but also the reluctance to accept any help that Hermione had somewhat come to expect from her best friend. She tried reaching out for his hand again and this time Harry allowed her to draw it towards her. Hermione undid the clumsily wrapped bandage he had tried to use to hide his injury and laid Harry’s hand in the healing liquid.

As his hand was submerged, Hermione heard Harry draw in a breath. Slowly his muscles relaxed under her watchful gaze. The Murtlap Essence, which had been a clear, pale yellow to begin with, began clouding over and darkening as Harry’s hand rested in it.

When she could no longer detect any change in the liquid, Hermione lifted the tortured limb out of it and gently patted it dry with a clean cloth. Taking out another bottle she briefly met Harry’s eyes.

“Essence of Dittany.” she pre-empted his question. “It closes wounds.” Using the dropper that came with the bottle, Hermione began applying the Dittany. Harry’s hiss when it made contact with his skin told her all she needed to know about what the experience must be like. “Just hold on, Harry. It’ll be over soon.” When she was done applying the Dittany, Hermione held on to Harry’s hand for just a moment longer. “It would be best to let your hand rest for a while before going to sleep. We don’t want your sheets to rub open the new skin.”

Harry nodded sleepily. “Alrigh’, ‘mione.” he murmured, barely articulating his words. His agreement didn’t stop his head from dipping as he appeared to be falling asleep where he sat. Hermione gulped down a sudden nervousness as she reached up with her free hand and gently pulled Harry’s head down towards her shoulder.

“Just rest here for now, Harry.” she whispered. “I’ll wake you up when you’re all set to go to bed.”

“Jus’… moment.” Harry slurred, his breathing already evening out. As his weight settled against her and the vague hints of sweat and the remnants of his shampoo tickled her nose, Hermione turned her mind back to the revenge she was planning. Seeing Harry this vulnerable had reignited her fury at the one who had caused it. She determined then and there that she would get started on her revenge at the earliest opportunity.

_It would be better to get the pieces I can into place as soon as possible. I’m positive I can hold them there until the time is right and I know how I want to proceed._

_Who knows? Maybe something unexpected will come up that I can make use of._ Hermione just hoped that Hedwig would be as eager to help with this part as she had been in retrieving the Murtlap and Dittany.

It was only when Hermione noticed that she was starting to doze of as well that she reluctantly woke Harry up and urged him up the stairs towards his bed. She doubted if he would remember how he got there in the morning given that he hadn’t seemed to come fully back into the land of the waking.

Up in her own dorm Hermione found her feathered ally already waiting for her.

_Prek._

“In the morning, Hedwig. I need a clearer head than this to write the letter. We’ll make a start on getting the bitch who did this to Harry before breakfast though, I promise you that.”

_Prek_. Hedwig sounded reluctant to accept this promise, but not so much that she would fight it.

_And now I’m imagining an owl’s opinion. I need to get to sleep before I muck up what may be my one chance to hurt that hag._

True to Hermione’s word, Hedwig was winging for the horizon with a carefully written letter tied to her leg before the elves had served the first dish in the Great Hall.

:-:-:-:-:

The rest of the week was an odd experience for Hermione, both dreading and longing for it to end. She wasn’t particularly happy that Harry had been forced into a detention at the same time as a Hogsmeade weekend, but it wasn’t like other teachers had never used this as a punishment; it was the detention itself that was objectionable. Harry’s absence from the trip did present an opportunity; one that Hermione fully intended to capitalise on.

Next to her Ron walked with his hands jammed into the pockets of his robes. She knew that he was missing their other friend too. They hadn’t been to Hogsmeade without Harry since their third year and Ron clearly hadn’t expected the situation to occur again. With Hermione also occupied with her own thoughts the walk down to Hogsmeade passed in near silence. 

As they entered the village Ron’s path turned almost automatically towards Zonko’s and Hermione followed along for now. Inside the store Ron began poking at the various products. To Hermione it looked like he was doing his best to distract himself from Harry not being there.

Once she was sure that he was absorbed in the pranking materials around him, Hermione slipped out of the store and walked towards a part of the village that students generally avoided. There were no interesting stores, no stylish café’s, just The Hog’s Head.

Normally the dirty, old pub filled Hermione with revulsion and she would have done her best to avoid it as her classmates were doing. Like Harry being stuck in the castle though, that avoidance created an opportunity. That knowledge didn’t stop her from taking a deep breath before pushing the door open.

The room that greeted her was just as dilapidated as the outside of the building had led her to suspect. A few suspicious glances were thrown her way and Hermione did her best to just ignore them. She made her way over to a table tucked back in a corner so that anyone deciding to stare at her would have to be extremely obvious about it. Sitting down she fixed her own gaze on the door and waited for the person she was sure would meet her here. It didn’t take long for the door to swing open and end Hermione’s wait.

Rita Skeeter’s appearance had taken a turn for the worse. The curls in her hair were notably looser than they had been the year before and the roots were showing that she was in fact turning grey. Her robes weren’t freshly pressed and several of the obnoxious rhinestones had fallen off her glasses. Most telling, to Hermione, was the change in the other witch’s posture. Rita’s shoulders were slightly slumped and her steps were shorter and quicker. It was clear that life without lying was not being kind to the reporter.

Rita’s eyes swept over the room and Hermione could easily identify the moment that Rita saw her. Scowling mightily Rita made her way over to the table where she stood glowering at the seated teenager.

“Hello, Rita.” Hermione smiled, putting on a pleasant air despite the foul look the reporter was giving her.

“Why did you call me here, you little bitch?” Rita seethed out under her breath.

“I want to offer you a way out of our little deal; a way for you to get back to work before the year is up.”

Rita’s eyes went wide as the conversation took what must have been an unexpected twist.

“And why would you do that?” She asked as she lowered herself into the chair across from Hermione.

Hermione eyed the reporter for a moment. “There is someone I want… ruined.” she allowed.

“Ha! Not so noble when it’s not your own hide on the line, are you?” Rita crowed.

“I suppose not.” Hermione agreed with a shrug. “I even suppose I could have taken the high road on this, but like I said: I want this person ruined.”

“And what happened to make you turn so vicious, hmm? Did one of your classmates make fun of your hair? Perhaps one of your roommates started dating Harry Potter?”

Hermione knew that her face must have shown _some_ kind of reaction by the way that Rita’s lit up.

“Really? You want me to go after some little bint that stole Potter out from under you?” she asked gleefully.

“Don’t be a twit.” Hermione retorted with an eyeroll. “Harry isn’t dating anyone.”

“But he’s why you’re doing this.” Rita smirked.

“In a way.” Hermione agreed begrudgingly.

“So, what do you want me to write about Harry Potter?”

“Nothing. I’ll give you a time to be in the Hogwarts Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. I imagine you’ll be able to take it from there.”

“The Defence classroom?” Rita mused. “You want me to attack Dolores Umbridge.”

“Yes. Is there a problem with that?” Hermione asked idly as she stood up.

“I want protection.” Rita challenged. “Umbridge is bad news. She’s got enough clout in the Ministry to end my career for good.”

“I have enough dirt on you to end your life as a free citizen of Magical Britain.” Hermione pointed out as she walked away, leaving a slip of parchment with the time of Harry’s next detention on the table. “Your call.” It was callous, perhaps even unethical to push Skeeter into doing this, but Hermione couldn’t bring herself to feel a twinge of regret. _Using the woman who set the stage for Harry to be attacked to end those attacks feels poetic more than anything else._

She didn’t hang around to enjoy the irony of the revenge she had come up with. The eyes of the ancient barman felt like they were burning a hole between Hermione’s shoulder blades, causing her to scurry out of the Hog’s Head as quickly as she could. She had barely made it back to the main street of the village when she heard a familiar voice calling out for her.

“Hermione!” Ron came running up to her, his face almost as red as his hair. “Where’ve you been?! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“I’m sorry, Ron. I thought you’d still be browsing in Zonko’s.” Hermione replied, skipping around the actual question.

“Yeah, well, don’t just disappear next time. I thought I was going to have to tell Harry that you’d been kidnapped.”

“Really now, Ron.” Hermione protested. “It’s not _that_ likely.”

“You know what’s out there.” Ron reminded her grimly. “Or rather: You Know Who.”

“Yes, and I also know that committing crimes in Hogsmeade in the middle of the day is not his current _modus operandi_.”

“His what?”

“His way of doing things.” Hermione sighed. She saw Ron’s mouth open and then close, his face contorting into a frown. “I am sorry for worrying you though.”

“I’m sorry for having a go at you too.” Ron gusted out. “Guess I’m not used to you being the one to run off.”

“With Harry confined to the castle one of us had to pick up the slack.” Hermione tried to joke.

Ron’s huff wasn’t quite a laugh, but it was better than the heavy mood that he’d been in before. “Come on, let’s go get a butterbeer.”

“Let’s.” Hermione agreed falling into step beside her friend. The rest of the day passed as any Hogsmeade trip might… if Hermione ignored the shadow of Harry’s absence and tension of having started a second clandestine project without him.

:-:-:-:-:

It took two weeks for Harry to settle down a bit after Hermione had found out what his detentions with Umbridge entailed. Aside from staying up every time so she could treat him with that Murtlap and Dittany stuff, she wasn’t trying to make him talk about it. If anything, she’d stopped bringing it up and suggesting ways he could avoid them.

Which in no way implied that she’d forgotten about the matter. Whenever Umbridge was mentioned, Harry could see his friend’s eyes turning hard. Hermione had even gone so far as to stop referring to their teacher as a professor, a courtesy no amount of nastiness could stop her from affording to Snape.

Hermione’s newfound hatred of a teacher was so jarring that Ron had pulled Harry aside one night as they were getting ready for bed. “Mate, do you know what has Hermione in such a mood about Umbridge?”

Harry just shrugged, unwilling to trust his voice.

“I mean, she’s never gone off on a teacher like this before and it’s not like she’s never had the chance.”

“I- maybe it’s because of our O.W.L.s?” Harry suggested in an effort to keep Ron from digging too far in the right direction.

“Yeah, that might be it.” Ron mused. “It’s really hurting Hermione that we’re not getting a chance to practice any spells.” The redhead was quiet for a moment and Harry allowed himself to hope for a moment that his friend would let matters lie as they were. He held his breath as Ron turned a serious gaze on him. “I think we need to keep an eye on her.”

“Umbridge or Hermione?”

Ron snorted in light amusement. “Not saying that the Pink Toad isn’t up to something, the Defence teacher usually is, but Hermione’s the one I’m worried about. Think you could keep your eyes open for anything weird during your muggle nights?”

“… yeah. Sure.” Harry agreed, less than enthusiastic about the corner he was lying himself into. _I can’t let Ron find out too. It’s a small miracle that Umbridge hasn’t put two and two together yet, but Hermione_ is _a lot better at keeping things like this a secret than we are. I don’t want to put Ron in danger if I don’t have to._

“I know I probably don’t really have to ask you, but… I just kinda wanted to make sure, y’know?”

“Yeah, Ron, I do.”

Ron nodded and clapped Harry on the back. “Right then. That’s enough being moody gits from the pair of us. Night, mate. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night, Ron.” Harry muttered as he slipped behind his hangings. He lay there quietly waiting for his roommates’ breathing to deepen into snores before getting up again and taking his invisibility cloak out of his trunk. _Guess I’ll have to tell Hermione about this before we get started tonight. Sorry I lied to you, mate… again._

 Before he could examine the kind of person he might be becoming any further, Harry hurried down the stairs. In the common room he found Hermione waiting for him, staring into what was left of the fire. She looked up as he came in and gave him that sad smile that was the best he’d been able to get out of her ever since she’d seen that fateful dream.

“Let’s go.” she whispered when he got close enough, taking the cloak from his arms and draping it over the pair of them. Harry nodded and together the two friends made the familiar trek out into the darkened halls of Hogwarts. With how close the Room of Requirement was to Gryffindor Tower it didn’t take them long to arrive.

Once they were safely ensconced in the room that could make a decent claim to being Hogwarts’ most magical, Harry decided to get the awkward conversation out of the way first. “Ron wants me to start keeping an eye on you.” he blurted out.

Hermione blinked in surprise. “Why?” she wondered out loud.

“He’s worried.” Harry tried only to be met with a look that demanded more of an explanation. “Because of how you’re acting around… _her._ ”

Hermione’s eyes turned hard as flint for an instant before softening again. She stepped forward and took Harry’s hand, the uninjured one; he’d noticed that she’d gotten careful about that. “I don’t think I can change that, Harry. Not enough to fool Ron at any rate.” The apology was spoken quietly as if Hermione was trying to soften the blow however she could.

“I guess I’m not really that surprised.” Harry admitted. “At least you’re forewarned now.”

“And I appreciate it.” Hermione smiled, giving Harry’s hand a quick squeeze before continuing in a reassuring tone. “No one’s going to find out from me, Harry. I promised before we started watching these dreams, didn’t I?”

Harry felt choked up as he managed a nod.

“Good.” Hermione decided, clearly closing the conversation. “Shall we have a look at my dreamcatcher tonight? We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Sure.” Harry agreed. He wasn’t sure if he could reveal anything worse than what he already had, but it was a relief to know that there wasn’t even a chance that he would after the discussion they’d just had.

Hermione drew Harry over to the couch by the hand she was still holding and they sat down in their usual spots on the couch. Hermione placed her amethyst in the holder and gave Harry a politely expectant look. Harry obliged and placed his wand against the stone.

“ _Lumos_.” The Mists filled the Room and Harry began the process of searching for any bubbles they might find. Several scenes of daily life passed before their eyes before a particularly large bubble filled their view.

Harry blinked as he found himself looking at Hermione’s ‘Midnight Field’. While the image had become familiar, he could not remember ever seeing it in such clear detail before. “Looks like your Occlumency is coming along nicely.”

Hermione nodded in acceptance of the compliment, her eyes never leaving the unfolding scene in front of them. _Guess she’s not going to let herself get distracted._ Turning back to the scene unfolding before them, Harry steeled himself to see what Hermione’s unconscious mind had come up with.

Familiarity hadn’t dampened the shiver that ran down Harry’s spine at seeing that rider bearing down on his best friend and that wasn’t just down to the newly revealed details.

The horse’s eyes seemed to be glowing coals. By contrast, the rider’s face was completely shrouded in shadow. As his cloak billowed around him, the two friends got a good look at the black armour beneath it, as well as what the rider was carrying with him.

“What’s that weapon?” The weapon Harry was referring to looked most like a scimitar attached to a long pole.

“I’m not sure, Harry. We can look it up later.” Hermione’s voice was tense as a strung bow. Harry took the hint that his friend wasn’t up for conversation and sat back, resolved to watch the rest of this dream in silence. He almost jumped straight back up when the rider unexpectedly thrust the weapon out to his side, before dipping his arm to let it drag along the ground.

The blade dug deeply into the field, ripping it open. Blood sprayed out from the gouge that trailed along behind the horse. The Hermione in the dream looked like she was redoubling her efforts to escape, and Harry couldn’t blame her. Just as it seemed that the rider was about to catch up to Hermione the bubble burst and the scene disappeared back into the Mists of Sleep.

Harry slowly lowered his wand, allowing the projection to flicker out. They sat in silence, Harry for his part unsure how to broach the subject of what they’d just seen. In the end only one thing came to mind. “Hermione?”  
“I don’t know, Harry.” Hermione immediately responded, sounding thoroughly unsettled. “I don’t know what that meant or where it came from.”

“Even without looking at the book I’d guess that you’re feeling threatened.”

“Yes, I gathered as much, thank you!” Hermione snapped.

“I just meant that it’s not that weird right now.” Harry apologised, a little hurt by the way his friend was lashing out.

Hermione sighed. “I’m sorry, Harry. I’m just a bit…” she trailed off with a shake of her head.

Harry nodded in acceptance of the apology. He wrestled with his own feelings for a moment before forcing his hand to move and take his friend’s in reassurance.

Hermione’s face showed that she hadn’t expected this physical contact, but her hand tightened around his nonetheless. _Guess it was the right move_ he thought in relief. Unwilling to push his luck any further, Harry settled in to wait for Hermione to recover from the shock of seeing her own dream.

He suspected that his friend had reached that point when he felt her weight settle against him. “Thanks for being here, Harry.” she murmured.

Harry felt a warmth suffusing his face as he tried to process that compliment. “Of course, Hermione.”

Hermione seemed to have decided that she was perfectly comfortable where she was and didn’t shift from her current position. Harry was having trouble figuring out what he was supposed to do about it. No one had ever explained to him what to do when you thought that a girl might have fallen asleep on your shoulder; knowledge that seemed imperative right now. He was still debating with himself when Hermione’s voice drifted up from his shoulder again.

“You’re very comfy, Harry, but I think we should get back to the tower and go to bed.”

“Yeah, okay.” Harry agreed, hoping that he didn’t sound too eager to get rid of her. A throaty chuckle made him think that whatever Hermione had heard, she wasn’t taking offence.

Hermione stood up first and pulled Harry up by the hand she was still holding. She didn’t let go as Harry awkwardly slung the cloak over them, nor as they made their way through the darkened corridors. It wasn’t until they reached the foot of the stairs to the girls’ dorm that her hand slipped from his.

Harry barely had any time to marvel at the rush of cool air over his skin before a pair of lips pressing softly against his jawbone demanded all of his attention.

“Good night, Harry.” Hermione’s voice whispered.

“…Night.” he managed in response. His body felt clumsy as he made his way up to his own bed, but it wasn’t an unpleasant experience.

Lying in his own bed that night, Harry’s mind drifted uninvited to the way Hermione’s body had felt leaning up against his, the way her warmth had washed up against his own and the scent of her shampoo had tickled his nose. The thought ‘ _it was… nice’_ washed through his mind just as he drifted off to sleep.

:-:-:-:-:

_Granger,_

_We need to talk. I’ve reserved a private room at the Hog’s Head. I’ll be there from five to midnight._

_RS_

 

Hermione crumpled the note she had received and stuffed it into her pocket; she would make sure to incinerate it later. _I’ll have to find a way to get out there. It must be serious if Skeeter’s willing to spend seven hours waiting for me._

Hermione snuck a look across the table to where Harry and Ron were discussing the Azkaban Breakout in subdued voices. She knew that they were both worried about what it meant for the war. It was undeniable that You Know Who had just received a massive boost to his forces. More obstructive to Hermione’s immediate plans was that the Gryffindor fifth-years were drawing together to deal with the news, which limited her ability to speak to Harry in private.

She ended up having to wait until they had all returned to their tower after classes. Harry was invited to join a game of gobstones but deferred his participation until after he’d dropped his bag on his bed. Hermione hurried up the stairs after him, pointedly ignoring the hoots and whistles that followed her up.

“Hermione?!” Harry exclaimed nervously when she marched into his dorm. “What are you doing up here?”

“I need a favour, Harry. May I borrow your cloak tonight?”

“Tonight?” Harry asked warily. “We can’t go out tonight. I’ve got detention.”

A part of Hermione’s gut clenched in familiar fury as she was reminded that her best friend would be carving his own flesh open. She managed to shake it off before responding; _that’s not for here and now. Besides if Skeeter’s got something we may be able to bring an end to that horror of a woman and what she’s doing to Harry._

“I know, Harry.” she said gently. “It’s for… something else.”

“Hermione?”

Hermione’s teeth caught her bottom lip as she tried to come up with an answer that wouldn’t involve lying to Harry. “Can you just trust me for now that I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important?”

Harry gave her a long searching look before heaving a sigh and turning to rummage in his trunk.

“Thank you.” Hermione breathed out as Harry held the silvery cloak out to her.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I will.” Hermione promised, carefully packing the cloak into her book bag. Harry nodded as if he was trying to convince himself that he believed her.

When they got back down Harry joined in with the gobstones game while Hermione sat down with a book. The occasional glance over at the happy group told her that Harry was keeping up a good front. Superficially there was nothing to indicate what he was about to head out and face. When he finally got up and announced that he had to get to his detention, to much sympathy, Hermione could see that there was a tightness around his eyes. She took the opportunity that Harry’s departure presented and left the common room with him.

“Thanks, Harry.”  she told him with a sad smile as she threw his cloak over her. “I’ll see you when you get back.” Harry just gave the space where he apparently thought she was a single nod and trudged off to his detention.

Hermione quickly made her way through the castle, silently wondering what her eleven-year old self would think of her accumulated experience sneaking out after curfew. _I don’t think I would have even been able to conceive of such activities._

That experience stood her in good stead though as she managed to find one of the smaller gates out of the castle that the professors weren’t watching. Caution kept Hermione under the cloak all the way to Hogsmeade. A Warming Charm allowed her to take the further precaution of waiting for a patron to arrive and enter the Hog’s Head so that she could stay invisible as she entered the building.

Stepping out of the way of the door so she wouldn’t get run over by any new arrivals, Hermione checked the room in front of her. It didn’t surprise her that Rita wasn’t sitting anywhere in the taproom. The more relevant observation was that there were no doors that might lead to a private room. Hermione’s attention was drawn to the stairs in the far corner. _That’s probably my best guess._

Her path across the room might be the tensest forty yards she’d ever walked, dodging drunken locals. Those same locals were a blessing during her ascension up the stairs as the cacophony of their conversations and one horrendous singer covered the creaks from the steps she climbed.

Upon reaching the landing Hermione drew her wand and whispered the incantation: “ _Hominem Revelio_.” Only one signature showed up on the same floor. She quickly made her way over to the door between her and that signature.

Before entering, Hermione checked that she wasn’t being watched and pulled the cloak off, stuffing it into her bag. _No need for Skeeter to know that we have this._ She slipped into the room before anyone could stumble on a Hogwarts student most definitely out of bounds.

Inside, Hermione found a pair of chairs facing a roaring fire. Rita Skeeter was sitting on one of those chairs and staring into the dancing flames. At the sound of the door closing the reporter looked up. Hermione was a little surprised to see that the usual sharp, spirit in the other woman’s eyes seemed dimmed somehow.

“How did you find out?” Rita asked somberly, turning back to the fireplace.

“I saw his hand.” Hermione responded in the same tone as she took the other seat. It was true enough.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” the other woman asked.

“It means several things. Which are you thinking of?”

“I’m thinking that for the government to so blatantly torture a minor means they have no other way of shutting him up. I’m thinking it says something that Potter’s story hasn’t changed, despite what he’s going through. I’m thinking that this stinks of a cover-up.” Rita’s head tilted slightly, and Hermione knew that she was being observed for a reaction. “I’m thinking about the claims that Potter made at the end of the tournament last year.”

Hermione simply sat there quietly, waiting for Rita to say whatever it was that was supposed to get a reaction.

“Is he really back?”

Hermione didn’t bother playing coy and asking who Rita meant. “He is.” She watched the older woman shiver.

“I don’t want to believe it.” Rita whispered. “I don’t want us to go back to those days.”

“The Ministry doesn’t want to believe it either.” Hermione pointed out. Rita nodded and reached out for something standing next to her. A moment later she was slugging back a golden drink that smelled strongly of alcohol.

“What do you want me to do next?” Rita asked sounding thoroughly defeated. “I can report on what I saw but we’d never get it published. Even if we did, a lot of people might connect the same dots I have, but it would do nothing to get the Ministry moving. What are we going to do to actually get ready for what’s coming?”

“Write the piece.” Hermione said calmly. “Write it, but don’t take it to the Prophet right away. Take it to the DMLE instead.”

“The DMLE?” Rita looked a little nervous at contacting the department that Hermione had been threatening her with for months. Hermione drew her research notes from her bag.

“Did you know that Wizarding Britain has a law concerning the mistreatment of children?” Hermione asked, watching Rita’s eyes zero in on the sheaf of parchment that was now resting easily in the younger woman’s lap. “A law that would see both the Minister and his Senior Undersecretary ineligible to continue in their current offices… or indeed any public function?” Hermione smirked and handed the reporter the packet.

“You think that Amelia Bones will move on my word?”

“I think that we can get her enough evidence that she will. If nothing else she’s a politician by all accounts. Opportunities like this don’t come by every week.”

“If we’re presenting evidence I could really do with a witness statement.” Rita pointed out. Hermione couldn’t quite suppress her wince well enough. Rita picked up on it immediately. “Potter has no idea that we’re talking, does he?”

“No. I was hoping that you’d be able to write the article without mentioning him.”

“Why? The fact that it’s Potter seems fairly central to the whole thing to me.”

“First, I’m none too sure that it would help our cause. If the identity of the child being tortured isn’t specified it should hit the parents with children at Hogwarts that much harder. Second, the fact that Harry and the Headmaster aren’t being believed isn’t separate from the previous pieces you’ve written. Turn around too fast and we’ll lose credence. Finally, it’s… Harry doesn’t like being plastered all over the papers. I want to spare him that if I can.” Hermione did her best not to blush as Rita turned to face her fully. A moment later the older witch let out a drily amused snort.

“And you wondered why we all believed that there was something between you and Potter.” she remarked sardonically.

“You know very well that you were just making things up.” Hermione hissed back.

“Not really.” Rita disagreed. “If I just made things up, no one would believe them. Contrary to what you seem to think, I really do work to understand my subjects. After all, the people want to believe that they are being told the truth and I do. I just leave out the boring bits of the truth.” The reporter’s assessment sounded clinical, analytical even, and Hermione found herself considering the argument despite herself.

“Anyway, you might want to spend some time thinking about what it means that you’re willing to go so far for someone who isn’t a member of your direct family.” Rita said with a small smile as she got up. “I’ll let you know when I’ve got a first draft. I think that by then we’ll want to coordinate again.”

Hermione nodded absently as she heard the door close. For a long moment she sat, simply staring into the fire, consumed by her thoughts, much as Rita had been when Hermione had come in.

As soon as the thought occurred to her that she was behaving in any way like Rita Skeeter, Hermione shook herself and got up.

_I need to get back to Hogwarts_ she reminded herself. _Harry’ll be getting out of his detention soon and I need to have the Murtlap Essence ready for him._ Resolved, she swung the invisibility cloak over herself and hurried out of the room.

:-:-:-:-:

**_Excerpt from Hermione Granger’s research notes_ **

_Day 67_

_We have established that we see increasing amounts of visual information, the longer the dreamcatchers hang over our beds. We’re witnessing longer constructed dream sequences and they show more details._

_My recent use of medical potions has me wondering whether there are potions that might amplify our observations further. Such additions to the procedure should be saved for after we conclude this first experiment. Playing around with potions is risky on a good day, never mind deliberately going in for psychotropics. A lot more research would be needed, and I can’t take on any more extra projects right now._

_Perhaps when I’ve gotten rid of our Defence problem._


	6. Chapter 6

“Ooo, Harry! Look!” Hermione exclaimed, leaning forward to get a better look. She was sitting next to her best friend in a room that only existed for the two of them, looking at his dreams; not something she would have been able to predict a year ago, let alone before she’d ever learnt that magic existed.

A bubble had just drifted to the surface of the projected, swirling Mists that occupied the space in front of her. In the middle of that bubble, a swimming Harry was taking shape. “It’s the same as last time. I’m sure of it.”

Hermione decided to take Harry’s lack of protest as agreement.

As Harry’s image swam it came closer and closer to the lakebed and the strange weeds growing there. One of the figure’s hands drifted out and stroked through the weeds in a caress that Hermione doubted the real Harry would have attempted. The moment he broke contact with the weeds to swim another stroke the whole mass of them surged upwards.

Within seconds the Harry in the dream was completely ensnared. The two friends in the real world could only watch as the Harry in front of them thrashed and struggled to escape this trap.

His efforts appeared to be in vain as the weeds inexorably pulled him down. Hermione could see air-bubbles escaping from Harry’s mouth. _Come on_ she urged the dream in front of her. _You can get out of there. I know you can._

Right as Harry gasped out a particularly large mouthful of air, the bubble containing the image popped.

“NO!” Hermione howled out as she began moving her wand around in a desperate effort to recapture the image. “You dratted stone! Show me what happens next!” she demanded furiously as she only succeeded in making the Mists look like they were swirling faster.

“Um, Hermione? I don’t think we’re going to get any more than this.” Harry told her gently.

Hermione’s shoulders slumped. “I _hate_ not knowing the ending to a story.” she admitted dejectedly.

“Hey, it’ll probably come back some time.” Harry tried to reassure her.

“I know. It’s just frustrating.”

“Want to try yours?”

“Sure.” Hermione gusted out. _Not like we’ll get a complete picture there either._

Harry was happily oblivious to her pessimism though and switched out the amethysts. He cast his own wand light through it and began searching the currents. Hermione cast a quick charm to determine the time and wrote it down on a piece of parchment.

The minutiae taken care of, she leant back and dispassionately watched her dreams throw up everyday images. _I knew it._ Watching her dreams pass before her offered Hermione very little in the way of mental engagement aside from counting the bubbles so that she would be able to compare the frequency of their appearances to earlier sessions. As it invariably tended to do when faced with drudgery, Hermione’s brain turned to something that could be considered more of a challenge; in this case analysing what she’d seen of Harry’s dream.

_The way that the seaweed reacted to his presence certainly suggests that it represents someone- thirteen- someone trying to drag him down. I wonder if the appearance of the seaweed contains some clue about who it- fourteen, fifteen- who it is._ Unfortunately, the only thing that came to mind for Hermione was hair and Harry had more than a few people he would consider slippery characters trying to get one over on him, quite a few with black hair. _I’m not sure whether that’s down to the kind of people Harry antagonises or the amount. Sixteen._

Hermione went through the list as she continued to count the bubbles. Right at the top had to be people like Professor Snape and Slytherins like that Montague boy who played quidditch. It could also be something less familiar and more potentially dangerous like the pictures they’d seen of Bellatrix Lestrange or Augustus Rookwood following their escape from Azkaban. _I just don’t know. It could also be something more abstract like – twenty-two- like the Ministry’s persecution._

Eventually even the distraction of considering what might have moved Harry to dream of a lake full of black, aggressive seaweed couldn’t keep Hermione from boredom. “ _Tempus_. That’s enough, Harry.” she said, writing down both the result of her Chronometer Charm and her own count of how many bubbles they’d observed.

The Mists blinking out of existence told her that Harry had ended his Torch Charm. “Hermione, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Harry.” Hermione’s head came up to study him carefully, trying to brace herself for whatever he might choose to reveal.

“Is what we’re doing really going to help people?”

“It is.”

Harry looked a little taken aback at how certain she’d sounded. “How do you know?”

Hermione took a moment to order her thoughts. “What you need to remember is that the mind is still a bit of a mystery, both for magicals and muggles. What little we do know tells us that it is possible to do incredible damage to a mind, but almost nothing about the mechanics of how it happens.”

“Both Divination and Psychology have relied on dream interpretation to infer what our minds try to tell us. What we’re doing here will at least help us in determining whether or not they were right. Even if all we discover is that this is not the answer, we will have crossed a possibility off the list.”

Harry’s expression was difficult to read. Hermione thought that it looked like he was having trouble believing what she’d just said.

“Is that how you do it?” Harry finally asked, thoroughly confusing the girl next to him. “Is that how you manage to be the most brilliant witch of our age? By thinking like that?”

Hermione was a little unsure how to answer that. “Harry, I don’t know what to say. It’s just the scientific method: come up with a hypothesis, determine how it could be demonstrated or falsified, then conduct tests to see if it is concordant with reality and try to see if there are any better explanations. I don’t think it makes me particularly brilliant.”

“I don’t think I could have rattled all that off, let alone apply it every day.” Harry remarked with a rueful grin. “Guess I just wondered if I’d ever be able to catch up to you in any way.”

“Harry, we both know that you’re intelligent. You’ve demonstrated that several times in this project alone.” Hermione scolded.

“Maybe, but that doesn’t stop me being impressed with the way your mind works.”

Hermione could only blush. What was one supposed to say to such a sincere compliment? “I- thank you, Harry.”

Her friend gave her a smile and nod, standing up and holding out a hand to her. “Come on. That big, beautiful brain of yours needs rest.”

“Now you’re just teasing me.” She let him draw her up regardless.

“Maybe a little.” Harry agreed with an impish smile. Hermione could only shake her head fondly. _He really does look quite handsome when he smiles like that. If that’s what James Potter looked like, then I think I understand a little of what Lily saw in him._ “When’s our next movie night?” Harry’s question drew Hermione out of her thoughts to see his head floating over empty air.

“Well, Ron and I have to patrol tomorrow, and you and he have Quidditch practice the day after, so that’s the next two nights out.”

“I have detention tomorrow and three days from now.” Harry admitted, though it didn’t look like he particularly wanted to do so.

“The night after that then.” Hermione decided using the fact that she had to be close to Harry to fit under his cloak with him to give him a consoling hug. The tension she felt in his muscles was so at odds with the teasing tone he’d taken only moments before that she began to wonder how she’d ever missed the way Harry reacted to his detentions before his dreams had revealed them for what they really were.

_Please, Rita. Get that article done soon. I don’t want Harry to have to suffer a minute more than he absolutely must._ The fact that she was begging for Rita Skeeter of all people to be helpful was not lost on Hermione as she walked through the night-dark halls of Hogwarts.

:-:-:-:-:

“This is nice.”

Hermione looked over at her partner with a raised eyebrow. “We’re walking through empty hallways during a time we could have been spending on our hobbies.” she pointed out in an invitation for Ron to explain his unexpected statement.

“Yeah, but I rather like that we’re getting some time to spend together.” Ron said with a slightly uncomfortable shrug. “I told Harry this too, but this year the two of you feel like you’re off in your own world half the time.”

“Well, you and Harry have Quidditch… and Harry’s not a prefect.” Hermione defended herself.

Ron snorted out a laugh in response. “Yeah, that’s pretty much exactly what he said.”

“You should have listened to him the first time then.” Hermione teased with a smile.”

“So, how much arm-twisting did you have to do to get him to agree to those muggle nights?” Ron asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“Movie nights, Ron.” Hermione corrected, thanking Harry silently for keeping her up on the excuse he’d used. “And I didn’t have to twist his arm. Harry’s not as stubborn as some I might mention.”

“Oi!” Ron protested, amusement shimmering through his voice. They patrolled in silence for a few more minutes before Ron chose to break that silence again. “Hermione? You know that if you needed help with anything you could come to me, right?”

“I know, Ron.” she smiled. “It’s nice of you to say it, though.”

Ron nodded, seemingly to himself and they continued on. Hermione was just about to suggest that they return to the common room when she heard something moving ahead of them.

“Did you hear that?” Ron hissed before she could, drawing his wand as he came to a stop.

“Yeah.” Hermione breathed out. She gripped her own wand but restrained from taking that final step and drawing it. The two prefects crept forward carefully. Hermione remembered the way she had waved off Ron’s concerns that she might have been kidnapped out of Hogsmeade and had to admit that she might owe her friend an apology; scenarios of Death Eaters having breached Hogwarts’ defences were currently running rife through her mind.

Their cautious silence made the sound of oncoming footsteps all the clearer. _It doesn’t really sound like they’re sneaking_ Hermione thought tensely. _It sounds like someone just casually going for a stroll._ Unfortunately, this did nothing to assuage Hermione’s dread as people did not just ‘casually go for a stroll’ in Hogwarts in the dead of night; even Harry usually had a reason.

In a display of unspoken coordination that was only available to the members of the Golden Trio after having been in so many life-threatening situations together, Ron and Hermione waited until they judged the footsteps to have drawn close enough that they would be able to surprise their target, without putting themselves in undue danger. Within a split second of each other, both friends whipped their wands up and cast their spells.

“ _Lumos_!” Ron cried, flooding the hallway with light bright enough that everything just became a forest of lines and sharp contrasts. Only one of those lines moved to cover overwhelmed eyes and that was all Hermione needed to identify her target through squinted eyelids.

“ _Incarcerous_!” she cried, ropes leaping from her wand to ensnare the intruder. A startled cry followed by the dull thump of a body hitting the floor told her that she had been successful. The light slowly receding to a more manageable level meant that Ron had reached the same conclusion. When it had calmed enough that she could make out more than contours, Hermione had to blink to make sure that she was seeing what she thought she was.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?!” On the ground in front of them lay Cho Chang, Head Girl of Hogwarts, trussed up like the Christmas Day goose and glaring at the two prefects in front of her. “Release me.”

Hermione waved her wand and cast the Disspelling Charm, vanishing the conjured restraints. Cho clambered to her feet, giving Hermione a chance to observe the other witch. Cho was wearing a dressing gown that looked to Hermione like it was made of silk and a size too small. The fabric of the dressing gown had been pulled askance by the ropes of Hermione’s spell and was currently hanging off one shoulder and falling open from a slightly loosening belt, revealing tantalising swaths of delicate, creamy skin. The way Ron’s breathing caught in his throat before dropping into a ragged cadence confirmed to Hermione that her assessment of Chang’s assets had been correct.

“What are you doing out this late?” Hermione asked sharply, mostly to cover the embarrassment she was feeling.

Chang ignored the question for a moment to readjust her robe, shooting Ron a glare that shifted to a calculating smirk as she recognised the people in front of her. Hermione felt a stab of annoyance when Chang finished her adjustments and the result was something so obviously alluring that she might as well have put up a signpost. After running her eyes over Ron one last time, Chang turned to Hermione and her expression turned decidedly cold.

“I was enjoying the Prefect’s Bath, Granger. Besides, I’m the Head Girl.” _And you’re only a prefect._ Hermione heard the unspoken words loudly in Chang’s superior expression. The claim that she had been in the bath was supported by the way her robe clung to the curves of her body, silk on damp skin.

“Then shouldn’t you be setting a proper example?”

Chang’s eyes narrowed at the hostility in Hermione’s tone. “I think you should probably head back up to your common room, Granger. You’ve done enough for tonight.” She then turned to look at Ron with a sultry smile firmly in place and a hand tracing along the collar of her robe. “Do say ‘hi’ to Harry for me when you see him, won’t you?”

Chang shot one final glare at Hermione which was met full force and then _sashayed_ in between the two Gryffindor prefects, resting a hand briefly on Ron’s shoulder in passing, before continuing down the hall away from them. Hermione watched the Chinese witch walking away from them, feeling a snarl pulling at her lips.

“Hermione, what was that?” Ron hissed at her under his breath. “I thought you were about to attack Cho.”

“I don’t like her.” Hermione growled. “I don’t trust her.”

“Okay.” Ron eyed her uncomfortably for a moment before his self-control broke. “Why don’t we trust her again?”

Hermione appreciated the way he automatically included himself, but the feeling floundered as she tried to articulate exactly what it was that bothered her about the Head Girl. “I-… she’s-… I just don’t.” She felt a little ashamed that this was the best she could do, but her feelings refused to settle into something she could analyse.

Ron nodded with a wary look in his eye. “So, should we head back like she told us to?”

“Might as well. If our services aren’t needed, then we shan’t provide them.” Hermione shot a last glare down the hall in the direction Chang had taken. She tried to fix the way the witch had looked in her mind’s eye, to give herself the feeling that she was glaring at a target. She could still see the way that bath robe had done less to cover than suggest, that smug smile, the way those black locks had clung wetly to the curve of her neck, the-

Hermione’s thoughts ran into a wall as her anger crystalised. _Harry’s dream! Her hair looks exactly like those weeds that keep trying to drown him. Is Harry worried that she’ll trap him somehow? I won’t let her! I’ll never let her touch him!_

“Hermione?” Ron sounded very worried. “Are you sure you’re alright? You looked kind of scary just now.”

“I’m fine, Ron.” Hermione snapped. Seeing him flinch away from her, she instantly regretted her response. “Sorry. I think I’m a little more tired than I realised.”

“We’d better get back to the dorms then. You must really need to go to bed.” Ron suggested.

Hermione just nodded tightly and the rest of the trip back to Gryffindor Tower took place in tense silence. In the common room, Hermione said a terse goodnight to her friends and made herself scarce.

Behind the safety of her bed’s hangings she could fume in peace. _It’s not enough that that hag is torturing him, now Harry has to put up with some clingy fangirl as well? Not a chance._ _She’s toast._

Hermione fell asleep still clinging tightly to her indignation.

:-:-:-:-:

Having found the source of her irritation with Chang had proved to be less cathartic than Hermione had hoped. Now, every time she saw the other witch her body twitched, wanting to get closer to Harry; to protect him from this ‘slimy’ character. Whenever Chang showed up at the Gryffindor breakfast table to simper and bat her lashes, Hermione’s grip on her utensils turned white-knuckled.

Worst of all: she knew that her friends had noticed this change in behaviour. Ron had undoubtedly informed Harry of the encounter during their patrol and both boys tended to share a look after they’d caught her response to that bint trying to worm her way into Harry’s heart, even if they didn’t seem to have caught on to what Chang was doing. _And I just can’t make up my mind whether that is a net positive or negative._

On the one hand, if the boys hadn’t noticed they wouldn’t understand Hermione’s response other than chalking it up to her being ‘mental’; on the other, if they were still oblivious then it meant that Chang was failing miserably in her objective to have Harry notice her. Hermione settled for knowing that Harry’s innocence was keeping him safe from that manipulative little tart.

The one thing that her consciousness of Chang’s tactics had improved was the Clandestine Project. The knowledge that Harry was sharing his dreams with Hermione Granger and not Cho Chang was uplifting to the Gryffindor witch in a way that she hadn’t experienced since… Hermione couldn’t remember ever feeling so powerful before. The only experience that came even a little close was attending the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum and basking in the jealousy and shock of three schools’ worth of teenagers.

Harry had noticed that something was amiss during their time together, if his constant sidelong glances were anything to go by. Hermione had to concede that it would probably have been impossible for him to miss her smug smirk every time they entered the Room of Requirements or the way she now chose to sit herself right up against him on the couch with her feet tucked under her so that she leant into him just a little more than she would when sitting upright. She knew that she was being irrationally possessive of her friend, but no amount of resolve had proven enough to stop her. _At least Harry seems to have accepted it for now._

Hermione wondered to herself which of the many feelings that raced through her when she leant up against her best friend made it so hard to stop doing that, but she had yet to narrow it down to one, or even a few.

Her happy feelings were roughly stripped away when Harry’s recurring dream surfaced from the Mists. Hermione was tempted to just rip her wand away from his stone, but couldn’t come up with a sufficiently convincing reason to sabotage her research; or denying her curiosity about where this dream would take them.

The dream started off like it had every time so far: Harry swimming along under water, seemingly immune to the problem of breathing, when the harlot’s hair shot out and his lack of breath became an acute problem.

Harry’s frantic struggles slowly weakened until that one final gasp emerged from his mouth. For a heartbeat nothing happened and then the water exploded around Harry. Hermione strained forward as if it would help her see through the turbulence this new appearance had caused. By the time the streams of bubbles had subsided the two friends could see that Harry’s dream-self had been caught in the talons of a gigantic owl.

The bird’s brown feathers stuck out oddly from its impact with the water, but it didn’t seem too bothered about its appearance. Massive wings came down in powerful beats to finally pull Harry away from certain death.

Hermione suppressed a cheer at seeing Harry liberated from what she was now sure was the threat of Chang. Unfortunately, the danger seemed to have shifted from drowning at the hands of trampy seaweed to being dropped or eaten.

The owl flew on and the sky and clouds seemed to swirl around it and Harry. Hermione had thoroughly lost track of any kind of direction they might be heading in, if there was even a constant direction to begin with. There was something very relaxing about the way the clouds were streaming past though and Hermione could easily understand Harry’s subconscious mind wanting to linger here.

After several seconds that felt like nearly half an hour a new element entered the scene. The owl appeared to be closing in on its nest. With this new landmark the owl’s flight was put into perspective and now seemed impossibly fast as the nest filled the image in a few blinks of an eye.

The owl swooped low over the nest and opened its talons to release Harry’s dream avatar. The two waking magicals winced as they watched Harry bounce off a layer of impossibly large down feathers. A part of Hermione’s mind whispered that these feathers reminded her of the clouds they had just passed through.

In the nest, Harry appeared to have noticed something as he began digging into the down with his hands. Over his shoulder, Hermione watched as he uncovered a pair of brown gems. The Harry in the dream picked the stones up and pressed them to his chest as he laid down on the feathers around him, seemingly drifting off in his sleep.

The bubble popped and Hermione found herself unable to speak, her eyes still locked on the swirling Mists that had revealed her friend’s dream. This time there was no question in her mind that she had watched the end of the story, even if she wasn’t entirely sure _what_ that end meant.

“Well… that was… okay, I have no idea what that was.” Harry admitted next to Hermione.

Hermione reached down into his bookbag and picked up Harry’s copy of The Dream Oracle. “Let’s see if Imago has anything to say on the matter, hmm?”

Harry just grinned at her and pressed in a little closer, so he could join her in studying the book in her lap. Hermione opened the book and turned to the Index of Symbols. It didn’t take the two friends long to find the first reference they needed. The picture in the book of two brown stones matched Harry’s dream so well that Hermione began to wonder if flipping through these pages had influenced the formation of Harry’s dream. Her eyes moved from the picture to read the related entry.

_-_

_Agate_

_A fine-grained stone that appears in a wide variety of colours. This stone is closely related to both earth and fire. They are frequently used in rituals designed to aid the practitioner in solving problems in difficult times. The relationship to both earth and fire also ties the agate extremely closely to sexual energies and fertility._

-

“Harry? Something you want to tell me?” Hermione teased, hoping for firm denial as her mind drifted to her confrontation with Chang several weeks ago, no matter how much she cursed her wandering thoughts for doing so.

Harry’s face went red at that. “Um, not really. Let’s… let’s just keep looking. Maybe there’s something else that will clarify this.”

_-_

_Owls_

_Owls are well known messengers and symbols of wisdom. Rather than intellectual wisdom, though, owls are connected with the wisdom of the soul. Owls live within the darkness, which includes magic, mystery, and ancient knowledge. Related to the night is the moon, which owls are also connected to. It becomes a symbol of the feminine and fertility, with the moon’s cycles of renewal._

-

Hermione felt her dismay growing. _Not only is that the second prominent fertility symbol in Harry’s dream, it’s perfectly in line with descriptions of Chang as a Ravenclaw he’s attracted to._ She didn’t want to think what anyone else might have to say about the visceral response she felt every time the Chinese witch was brought up with regards to Harry. _She’s not good enough for him_ Hermione told herself. _If she’s not come out and said that she believed Harry, what will she do the next time he’s in hot water? And with Harry there’s_ always _a next time he’ll find himself in trouble._

“I don’t think this book is at all reliable.” Hermione sniffed, giving the offending reference work a disdainful look.

“I guess you’re right.” Harry sighed, shutting it and slipping it back into his bookbag. “I mean, taken all together it would mean that a magical, wise, fertile, feminine messenger would save me from some slippery figure doing covert things and all of it somehow relates to solving a problem in difficult times or more sex.”

Hermione was tempted to check that her heart hadn’t beat its way out of her chest. Breathing had become difficult and she surreptitiously wiped her palms on her robe for fear that they’d gone clammy while her mouth felt dry as a bone. _I don’t think that I’ve ever been called ‘fertile’ before._

Oh, Hermione knew that Harry hadn’t meant to refer to her, but after her thoughts on Chang it was difficult for the young witch to _not_ make the connection.

Harry had paused at the end of his summation as if struck by his own words. “You know, if I work that out a little, Trelawney would eat it up.” he groaned. “Probably the best argument for it all being nonsense.”

“Mm-hm.” Hermione squeaked in agreement. As soon as the sound escaped her lips Hermione wished she could have it back.

“Hermione? Are you okay?”

_Of course Harry wouldn’t just let something like that slide…_ “I’m fine, Harry.” _Drat it! That didn’t sound like my normal voice either. DratDratDrat! I need an explanation for-_ “I could use a drink of water. My throat feels dry.”

“Huh… I would have thought that the room would provide a drink then.” Harry mused, looking around as if he was expecting a glass of water to appear on the table. His brow furrowed as he tried to work through this conundrum and Hermione mentally sighed in short-lived relief. “Dobby! Are you free to come and answer a question?” Harry called out.

“Harry!” Hermione scolded, scandalised. Her exclamation did nothing to stop the little elf from appearing.

“What can Dobby be doing for the Great Harry Potter, sir?”

“Hey, Dobby, thanks for coming.” Harry smiled. “Can you tell if something is wrong with the Room? Hermione says she needs a drink, but it hasn’t fulfilled the Requirement.”

“The Come and Go Room is not being able to conjure food and drink, Harry Potter, sir, and miss.” Dobby eagerly explained, his head bobbing in a never-ending nod.

Hermione struggled with herself for a brief moment, but indignation was no match for curiosity. “Why can’t the room conjure food, Dobby?”

Dobby’s face twisted into an expression of concentration. “Miss, magic is not making food from nothing. There would be no elves if magic is making food from nothing.”

Which was not anything like the explanation Hermione had been hoping for. _I’ll have to suppose that it’s a law of magic. Perhaps Professor McGonagall will know._ While Hermione had been lost in thought, Dobby had briefly disappeared; something she didn’t notice until she felt a tug at the hem of her robes and looked down to see a glass of water being held up to her. “Oh, Dobby, you didn’t need to do that.”

“But Miss was wanting a glass of water.” Dobby sounded so honestly confused and slightly hurt that Hermione couldn’t bring herself not to accept the drink.

“Well, thank you, Dobby. It was very considerate of you.”

The elf beamed at her before popping out with a low bow. Hermione took a drink of the water and realised that it really was helping to ground her. _Perhaps I needed a drink more than I knew…_

“Better?” Harry asked with a small smile that looked like it was trying very hard to become a full-blown grin against his wishes.

Hermione took another sip as the memory of where her mind had jumped came flooding back in. _That boy is going to be the death of me._ “Much.”

Hermione watched Harry pack up their things as she drank the rest of her water. In her flustered state she could only be grateful that he was hastening her retreat to the safety of her bed. _I really should have thought through the implications of seeing each other’s dreams a little more before starting this project._

The awkwardness refused to be dissipated by the walk back to the tower and Hermione hadn’t been in the common room for a full minute before she made her excuses and went up to bed. _At least it wasn’t Harry who was embarrassed. I don’t know whether I’d have been able to convince him to continue this project._

:-:-:-:-:

Harry had made his way down to breakfast by himself, needing some time to think things through. Hermione and Imago could say what they liked, he’d recognised the agates his dream-self had found in that owl’s nest the second they’d been unearthed: he’d seen them looking out at him from his best friend’s face almost every day since he’d come to Hogwarts.

The story he’d come up with by way of an explanation the night before hadn’t been his honest interpretation of the images, but he didn’t know whether he could just come out and tell Hermione that he thought he was dreaming of her eyes. _That would really make things awkward in a hurry._

For a similar reason Harry didn’t think that he could talk to Ron about this. The fact that they were both best friends with Hermione would make that conversation nearly as awkward as one with Hermione herself. None of which helped Harry solve his dilemma: _should I be doing something about the fact that I’m dreaming about my best friend?_

On the one hand, Harry could take the reading that _The Dream Oracle_ suggested and slot Hermione in quite easily. After all, he wasn’t exactly having a hard time finding examples of Hermione’s wisdom helping him in difficult times and saving him from slimy figures.

On the other… _it’s still dreaming about a girl, even if I ignore all that stuff about s-s-sex… damn and blast… I can’t even think it without stuttering._ Everything Harry had ever heard about dreaming of a girl suggested that you felt something more for the girl in question than ‘just’ friendship. _So… do I?_ It was perhaps the crux on which Harry’s dilemma hung and even pushing his eggs and bacon across his plate wasn’t helping him figure it out.

_I mean, Hermione’s really nice… she’s smart; make that brilliant… she’s always there for me, even when I’m mucking up… she’s pretty, especially her eyes-_ Harry felt himself jerk up at that last thought. The rest was familiar, traits that everyone agreed defined Hermione Granger. _Well, everyone that actually knows her and is being honest; jerks like Malfoy don’t count._

Pretty, though? That was a new one. _Why though? She is._ No matter how much he turned it over in his mind Harry couldn’t find his way out of the mental corner he’d backed himself into: Hermione Granger was pretty and somehow it had never occurred to Harry Potter before.

_Guess that tells me something at least: I’m going to have to hide this from her if I can. No way would Hermione want to date the kind of idiot who’s too blind to see that she really is pretty._ The thought hurt; a twisting feeling somewhere in his chest.

“Harry? You alright, mate?” Ron’s voice sounded out from behind him.

Harry was on his feet before he had processed who was speaking to him. He at least managed to refrain from drawing his wand on his friend. “Sorry. I got a bit lost in my own head there.” Behind Ron he saw the pair of agates that had started this tumultuous mess in his thoughts.

“Yeah, we noticed.” Ron commented in concern, sliding onto the bench next to where Harry had been sitting. Harry quickly joined him, unable to stand there and take Hermione’s scrutinising gaze. She slid onto the bench on Harry’s other side, but at least her eyes weren’t raking him anymore. “So what were you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

“Alright, I won’t ask.” Ron shrugged. “Might want to come up with a better excuse though. Maybe ask Hermione for something that sounds suitably difficult, cause there’s no way ‘nothing’ is that absorbing.”

Harry felt Hermione’s presence keenly but didn’t take Ron up on his advice. In fact, he was doing his best to come up with ways that he wouldn’t have to answer awkward questions. At least eating the breakfast he’d been playing with gave him some reprieve as Hermione would refuse to let him speak with his mouth full.

Thankfully, neither of his friends pressed him on the matter, though from the corners of his eyes he caught the concerned glances being thrown his way. Harry was just considering giving some excuse, any excuse, to leave when the morning post arrived. Neither he, nor Ron, could really ignore the unfamiliar owl landing in front of Hermione.

While Hermione’s parents did write her back whenever she sent them an owl, they had never used parchment before to the best of Harry’s knowledge. Hermione was taking it all in stride though, feeding the owl a few scraps before untying the note and folding it open. She read it through once and then stuffed it into her pocket.

“So?” Ron asked once the curiosity became too much to bear.

“So, if I’d wanted you to know what it said, I’d already be telling you about it.” Hermione riposted neatly.

Harry and Ron shared a look that recalled earlier conversations about Hermione having developed some odd behaviours recently. Unfortunately, without a clearer idea of what was going on, the boys had no way to come up with a plan to help or even know if one would be welcomed.

Harry turned back to his meal morosely. _I think that when the older students said that fifth year was the most difficult_ this _is what they were talking about, not classes._

As the trio was walking to class, Harry felt something tugging on the back of his robes, but found only Hermione there, giving him a pleading look. _I’m going to regret this._ He dropped back a little so that they could whisper without their classmates overhearing.

“Harry, I need to borrow your cloak again; tomorrow night.”

“Is it for the same thing as last time?”

“Yes.”

A sidelong glance was enough to tell Harry that Hermione wasn’t about to elaborate on her answer. With a sigh he nodded his assent. “Just remember: be careful.”

“I will. Thank you.”

_I suppose we’ll just have to respect each other’s secrets if we want to keep our own. At least I’ll have something to distract me during detention tomorrow._

:-:-:-:-:

Hermione wondered what had gotten into Harry. It was more than obvious that he was wrestling with a problem. _Even Chang would be able to see this_ an unkind part of her mind sneered. Still, it was a little worrying since Hermione couldn’t even place what had caused this.

_If that pink frump’s come up with some new way to torture him I hope Harry knows that he’ll be able to come to me about it; or maybe You Know Who has begun sending him some new vision. Okay, so Harry’s spoilt for choice when it comes to things that might upset a person._

Hermione resolved to do the only thing she could: watch and wait. She and Harry hadn’t exactly found themselves in a situation where they would casually speak of such matters. _Maybe he’ll open up while we work on our Clandestine Research._

Since the next day would see Harry sitting another detention and Hermione heading out of the castle to meet Rita, this evening was slated to be another ‘movie night’. Hermione held out some hope that Harry might want to spend it opening up about what was bothering him; reason told her it was about as unlikely a scenario as she could imagine.

Reason was proven right as the two friends made their way into the Room of Requirements and Harry simply sat down on the couch expectantly. Past experience with Harry suggested to Hermione that she’d only manage to make him clam up more if she pushed for him to talk now, so she simply took a seat beside him and smiled as he placed his amethyst into the holder.

“ _Lumos_.” Hermione incanted. _Maybe Harry’s dreams will contain a hint if his mind is so occupied with whatever it is._

Harry’s dreams turned out to be disappointingly mundane. Charms class, flying with the Quidditch team; things that might be fantastical in the dreams of a muggle child, but hardly worth a mention in the life of two Hogwarts fifth-years.

Hermione didn’t want to abandon her search, but after twenty minutes her arm was thoroughly tired from the position she was holding, and she had to let it fall away from the crystal.

“Should we switch to yours?” Harry asked her carefully.

“Sure.” Hermione agreed, putting away her wand before replacing Harry’s amethyst with her own.

Harry’s wand took the place hers had occupied a minute earlier and he repeated her incantation. “ _Lumos._ ”

The Mists of Sleep filled the room and bubbles began forming and popping on their currents. Harry’s wand moved smoothly across the familiar surface. When it abruptly stopped Hermione knew what was about to happen. An abnormally large bubble had formed and Hermione knew the field of black grass that stretched out before them; and what it would bring.

She watched as her dream unfolded before her. It still disconcerted her that something so alien could be the product of her own mind. The now familiar rider thundered towards her fleeing doppelganger, it’s weapon tearing open the ground and drawing spurts of blood. “It’s called a glaive.” Hermione muttered, almost subconsciously, instinct throwing up the results of her research on the subject even despite her attention now focused on the projection.

As it drew closer the figure’s face never resolved into anything other than a pair of angry, glowing eyes, floating like a pair of coals in the middle of the hood’s shadow. When the figure got within striking range it raised the glaive high over its head. There was a pause before the weapon came whistling down towards Hermione’s head; it was enough.

A green shimmer passed over the stars above and the waving grass around Hermione surged up, stalks twining together and forming a single, thick, sinuous form. That single, solid strand looped itself around the area where Hermione was standing, encasing her in dark coils that never quite seemed to touch her. When the coils were piled up high as her head the tip of the surging grass resolved itself into a gaping, hissing maw that snapped angrily at Hermione’s attacker.

The rider didn’t take any notice and his weapon continued downward, biting deeply into the snake’s coils. The snake’s head lunged forward and bit into the flowing robes, only to be rebuffed by the armour the figure wore. Again and again the blade rose and fell. Whenever it looked like the blade of the glaive might cut through the snake to reach Hermione the coils would shift to present unblemished scales that could take the blow.

All the while the head kept lashing out in a desperate, if futile, defence of the girl in its embrace.

Hermione found herself desperately wishing the scene would stop. She wanted the rider to stop killing the snake or, failing that, for the poor animal to run away and save itself. Her hand moved towards Harry’s wand, though Hermione was unable to say for sure whether she intended to pull it away from the amethyst and end this. The question would remain unanswered as Harry’s free hand came up to take her own and keep it where it was. Hermione settled for holding on tightly in an effort to draw what comfort she could from Harry’s presence next to her.

In the dream the snake’s lunges were becoming slower and weaker, the fierceness draining away with the creature’s life force until it stopped lunging altogether. The coils just tightened and retracted, drawing closer around Hermione as the rider drove forward to deliver the kill stroke. At the last moment the snake flung itself forward one final time, abandoning its protection of Hermione to fling itself at its enemy with everything it had left.

The snake’s jaws clamped shut around the rider’s head, obscuring those dreadful eyes from view. The force of its assault dragged the robed figure down to the ground where the body dissipated into smoke together with the horse it had ridden, leaving only its weapon. The snake didn’t move from where it had fallen, stretched to its full length, unable to even coil up anymore.

Hermione’s dream counterpart hurried over to the fallen snake and gently lifted its head into her lap as she knelt down. It signalled the end of the dream and the bubble containing it began to pop, but not before the real Hermione had a chance to see what she had been looking at in her dream: a pair of impossibly familiar green eyes set in the snake’s face.

It was only a brief glimpse before the Mists of Sleep wafted in and settled back into their usual currents, but Hermione was as sure as she’d ever been of what she’d seen.

“That was… intense.” Harry murmured as he lowered his wand and disentangled his fingers from hers.

Hermione could only nod in agreement. _It might all be symbolic, but those eyes… there’s no way I couldn’t know those eyes._ She tried to sneak a glance out of the corner of her eye at the parselmouth sitting next to her. Harry was still looking pensively at the space where they had just witnessed the conjurings of her mind. His posture was relaxed and nothing about him suggested that he had recognised the image Hermione couldn’t get out of her head.

From the depths of her memory a voice drifted up: ‘y _eeaaahhh, protecting Hermione, totally_ not _a Harry move’_. Hermione tried to stay calm and analytical. _At least Harry doesn’t seem to have noticed; that gives me some time to get my bearings… and come up with something I can say to Alicia that will get stuck in her head as badly as her comment has apparently nested in mine._

“Harry?” Hermione’s voice sounded far steadier than she felt. “It’s getting late. We should probably head back.”

“Yeah…” he murmured before physically shaking his head as if he was trying to get rid of his thoughts. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Hermione barely noticed how she got back to Gryffindor tower. Her thoughts were spinning wildly as she tried to process that she apparently dreamed of Harry Potter. _It’s fine_ she tried to reassure herself. _As long as it stays in my dreams it’s fine. I can’t let it be a problem until I’ve finished off the toady. I really hope Rita’s got something we can work with._

:-:-:-:-:

**_Excerpt from Hermione Granger’s research notes_ **

_Day 74_

_My ability to analyse our data may be getting compromised. My reaction to my dreams, and even to Harry’s, is becoming increasingly emotional._

_To maintain objectivity, I should bring in observers who have no emotional attachment to either of us. The problem, of course, is that these dreams are turning out to be extremely personal. The level of trust required seems to preclude that level of objectivity. It might be possible to create such levels of trust if a caste of magical, medical professionals grew up around this technology._

_How such a profession would gain credence is a matter that will require careful consideration. I feel that I would speak for both Harry and myself if I were to describe us as reluctant so surrender so much privacy._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dream symbolism is something I researched online. There are enough sites that purport to know what your dreams mean but, like with the crystals, they have a tendency to assign slightly different meanings to different symbols. I have selected the ones that would best serve my narrative.


	7. Chapter 7

As Hermione crept out of the castle she considered how her opinion of, and relationship with, Rita Skeeter had changed over the past weeks. Receiving that note had not engendered the suspicion it would have at the beginning of the school year. The tone of their last meeting had even been somewhat amiable.

It bothered Hermione that she couldn’t quite put her finger on whether this was due to the looming threat of Lord Voldemort or whether she had judged someone wrongly. _No, it doesn’t matter right now. What matters is making sure that that foul, pink bitch loses the protection of her position._

The invisibility cloak she had borrowed from Harry meant that Hermione was able to make the trip down to the Hog’s Head in a relatively relaxed fashion and focus on the likely result of the upcoming meeting. It was a fair bet that Rita asking for another meeting meant that the article had been finished and was ready to be handed in to the DMLE.

_I should be grateful that she’s doing me the courtesy of consulting me at all._

When she finally reached the Hog’s Head, Hermione took up position next to the door and waited. It didn’t take long for one of Hogsmeade’s shabbier residents to amble up to the pub and enter it. Hermione ducked after him, taking advantage of his passage to preserve her invisibility.

Inside she skirted along the wall, avoiding the patrons as best she could, until she reached the stairs. She climbed them without a backward glance. Upstairs, she made her way to the same room that had hosted her last meeting with Rita. Hermione made sure to stuff the cloak out of sight before slipping into the room; her newfound trust wouldn’t extend to letting an unscrupulous reporter in on all of her and Harry’s secrets. Inside the room she found Rita sitting in front of the fire, much like she had been last time.

“You’re here.” Rita observed. Hermione noticed that the reporter’s tone no longer contained the malice it had during their first meeting in this place.

“You asked for this meeting, right?” Hermione asked in amusement. Rita’s face took on a slight scowl and Hermione decided that she needed to move the conversation on before that expression led to more. “I take it you finished the article?”

“I did.” Rita agreed, reaching into her handbag and drawing out a sheaf of parchment which she held out to Hermione. “There should be enough verifiable evidence in there to get Bones interested, _if_ she can get past the fact that I’m the one who wrote it.”

“That was always going to be tricky.” Hermione agreed absently as she scanned the written words. “I don’t think that an anonymous piece would be any more convincing though.”

“How kind.” Rita drawled.

“You know what I mean. It’s undeniable that you’ve made enemies with your work and that most people in power know that you don’t exactly have a tendency to write dry facts. From what I’ve read so far, you haven’t done that this time either.” It was quiet for a few moments as Hermione worked her way through the final pages.

“Well?” Rita asked when she looked up.

“I agree with your earlier assessment: there’s quite a bit of independently verifiable evidence in here.” Hermione said, feeling her way through her first reaction. “I appreciate that you left Harry’s name out of this. If we can present this to Bones in such a way that she might construe this as being about Susan, I think we can expect a swift response. That should get the ball rolling; especially since you’ve managed to implicate the Minister as well.”

“And just how do you expect to imply to the Head of the DMLE that her niece might be getting tortured without that blowing up in our faces when it turns out that she’s not?” Rita asked with one eyebrow raised in sardonic challenge. Hermione had recognised at the outset that this problem deserved serious consideration and hoped that her partner in this venture would agree with the conclusions she had come to.

“I think that our best bet is for you to be very reluctant in presenting all this.” Hermione said. “You’ve always put a lot of emphasis on ‘protecting sources’; regardless of whether or not you actually do, that will help us. Since you’ve not mentioned the name of the student being tortured, you _could_ claim that you’ve been sworn to secrecy regarding their identity. I’ll even ask you to promise not to mention any names, especially not to the head of the DMLE if you’d like some deniability.”

“Meaning that you think Amelia Bones will respond better to being misled than lied to?”

“More like she’ll forgive the deception since there really is a crime being committed here.” Hermione disagreed. “A crime that could lead to her becoming the Minister for Magic if she plays it right.” Rita was quiet for a long moment, considering the points that Hermione had raised.

“It might work.” The reporter allowed reluctantly. “Maybe.”

“What would you do?” Hermione asked, honestly curious.

“Publish and run?” Rita sounded like she was only half-joking before her shoulders slumped. “I don’t really know. I’ve never tried to influence the Ministry in any particular direction, so I’ve never really had to think about politics.”

“Are you having second thoughts about all of this?”

“Who wouldn’t?” Rita gusted out. “This is mad; all of it. We’re trying to bring down two of the most powerful members of the Ministry for Magic. If this doesn’t work they’ll land on us like Hogwarts Castle. If it does work, there’s every chance we’ll have annoyed a powerful dark lord who _doesn’t die_.”

“Will you still go through with the plan?” Hermione asked, wondering if everything she had done to try and get revenge for Harry was about to blow up in her face. Rita gave her a look that she couldn’t quite read.

“Do it and possibly annoy _him_ , or don’t do it and watch him take over for all eternity because we don’t have our act together? I’m not a betting witch, but the situation’s forced my hand. I’ll take my chances on the path that gives us all a chance of not being slaves to an immortal mad-man.” Rita’s answer might have been full of snark, but Hermione was forced to sit back and consider that the woman next to her was a lot more prescient than Hermione had ever given her credit for.

“Yeah, me too.” Hermione agreed.

Rita snorted in morbid amusement. “You mean unless that dark lord was Potter. Then you’d be right beside him as he trampled everything in sight.” Rita mocked as she stood up. Her next words cut straight across Hermione’s protest. “I’ll go see Bones tomorrow. If this goes as well as you want it to, then I hope you’re ready for everything to go off the rails; _fast_.” That turned out to be all the farewell Rita intended to say as she left the room at a quick stride before Hermione’s scattered wits could regroup.

:-:-:-:-:

For several days everything was quiet at Hogwarts with only Hermione knowing that a storm was coming. A weekend came and went quietly, as did Monday and Tuesday. Wednesday couldn’t have been considered quiet by a deaf man.

That morning brought with it a surprise. As the majority of the school were sitting down to breakfast the hurried tattoo of boots striking flagstones grew steadily louder until it culminated in Madam Amelia Bones and seven aurors marching into the Hall. They made straight for the High Table.

“Dolores Umbridge.” Madam Bones’ voice boomed out for all to hear. “Some disturbing information made its way onto my desk this week. I think we need to have a talk about it.” Hermione was fully focused on the scene in front of her; something was wrong here.

_It’s Umbridge! She isn’t even slightly surprised!_ The realisation had barely flashed through Hermione’s mind when the High Inquisitor stood up.

“I’m glad that you managed to get down here so quickly, Amelia. It shows that you understand the seriousness of the situation.” Hermione could see that Bones was surprised at being addressed like this, but Umbridge had already turned to the Hall at large. “Hem, hem. It has come to the Ministry’s attention that one of you has been conspiring to produce propaganda that would be harmful to our society, breaking several school rules in the process. This goes beyond what the staff can accept as a prank and as such we will be turning you over to the authorities to deal with. Now… where is Miss Granger?”

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face as what felt like the entire school turned to look at her. She was barely aware of Bones’ loud exclamation of “What?!” in the background. This was not the way today was supposed to go. Umbridge was supposed to be dragged out of Hogwarts in chains, preferably kicking and screaming. The High Inquisitor’s eyes met Hermione’s and that toad-like mouth stretched into a smug, fly-eating grin.

“Aurors, arrest that girl! She is to be charged with obstruction of justice, espionage and sedition.” Umbridge’s tone was harsh and loud, carrying none of its usual feigned sweetness. As all seven Aurors turned to face her, Hermione blinked in shock and found herself looking at a broad back covered in a black robe. It only took her a second more to realise what had just happened.

“Don’t even think about laying a hand on Hermione.” Harry Potter commanded, authority ringing clear in his voice. Despite what they may have thought of him, or what the papers might have said about him, the aurors hesitated.

“Aurors! Stand down!” Amelia Bones bellowed furiously, countermanding Umbridge’s authority. Hermione was grateful to see four of the aurors lowering their wands and relaxing their posture. The other three took a step forward. 

“Step aside, Potter.” the wizard in the centre of the three demanded, his tone not quite able to match Harry’s. “If you insist on getting in our way we’ll be putting you down; _hard_.” Harry didn’t move.

“Do the smart thing, boy. Even hardened criminals like Sirius Black know to run away rather than face us.” The woman to his left added. Hermione could see the way Harry’s jaw tightened and knew that these aurors had not only made the same miscalculation she initially had, they were compounding it. Harry might have stood by quietly if all the suffering were to land squarely on his own shoulders. Once he detected harm aimed at his friends he became an entirely different wizard. The comments about Sirius and those echoing the ones You Know Who had made to Lily Potter were the last thing that would get him to calm down.

“Last chance, Potter.” The first auror warned as he brought his wand up. Harry’s silently rose to match it. For a moment Hermione felt as if the world was balanced on the edge of a precipice. Then the lead auror moved. His wand flicked twice and a lilac spell shot out towards Harry before a translucent shield flickered into existence between them.

Harry’s wand barely twitched and spat out bolt of red that raced forward. Upon reaching the auror’s shield, the spell tore through it as if it had been made of wet tissue and slammed into the visibly shocked auror’s chest, flinging him across the Hall.

As that was happening, Harry’s wand had moved like a striking snake to meet the oncoming spell the auror had managed to get off. The spell was swatted away like a bug, its new path carrying it into one of the candles that floated around the Hall. The candle was immediately wrapped up in cords so tightly that it snapped into several pieces that fell to the ground.

Hermione was aware of a sea of gasps around them but couldn’t tear her eyes away from the vision before her. She had always known that Harry was a powerful and capable wizard, especially when faced with what seemed like an insurmountable obstacle, but she had never imagined that he could cast without incantations or wand movements, nor that he would be able to smack magic around like an annoying insect. Each feat was impressive, but there was a small voice in the back of Hermione’s mind that whispered that there was something more, that these feats alone could not explain Harry looking like something straight out of a legend.

“Leave.” Harry’s voice rang out into the Hall, causing Hermione to suck in a hitched breath without knowing why. “If you’re just here to attack my friends, then you’re not welcome.”

The two aurors shared a look and Hermione could almost see them making up their minds.

“You’re under arrest, Potter; you and the girl.” one of them declared, sounding something less than absolutely confident as she and her partner moved apart to make it harder for Harry to fight them. Behind them Hermione could see Bones furiously keeping the other four aurors from going to help their comrades. The Head of the DMLE clearly couldn’t spare them any additional help at the moment, but Hermione couldn’t find it in herself to be worried; not when Harry looked that steady.

She felt proven right when Harry didn’t wait for the aurors to take the initiative, but rather took the fight to them.

Harry’s wand was a blur as it sent three spells the female auror’s way, flicking one towards her partner as something that almost seemed to be an afterthought. His earlier spell, which had so easily taken out the lead auror, must have made an impression on Harry’s current opponents as both conjured up as many spells and objects as they could the second they saw Harry’s wand move. Hermione could tell, even at this distance, that the two aurors had put massive amounts of their magic into making these shields as strong as possible. The way their faces greyed and their bodies slumped as the spells left their wands was anything but hard to read.

When Harry’s spells splashed harmlessly against these obstacles Hermione discovered that she _was_ surprised that that power had been enough. Given the way he had torn through the last shield that he had faced, she had expected that he would be able to repeat the feat.

_No… Harry must have seen their shock when he defeated the first one. He tricked them into overcommitting to this first attack._ The smirk she could just see on her friends face only reinforced Hermione’s certainty that she had read the situation correctly. The horror on the two aurors faces told her that they had realised their mistake as well.

“Stand down! Alderton, Rabnot, if I see those wands move you’re on a three-week unpaid suspension. Potter, we’re not here to arrest Ms. Granger. Please stand down.” Amelia Bones was clearly done reining in her other aurors and had come to try and establish a modicum of control over the situation.

Hermione saw Harry straighten up slowly to a less aggressive stance, though she noticed that his wand was still pointed in the direction of the two aurors. She doubted that the head of the DMLE had missed it either. _Could Harry really keep going though? A witch or wizard cannot use more magic than they can store in their core and that first attack… He looks completely unaffected, but I can’t tell whether it’s an act. He might have tricked those other two aurors so that he would have enough power left to fight the others if he needs to._

_Stars above, but I love when he lets his intelligence out to play._

 “If you’re not here for Hermione, then what are you doing here? And why did your aurors attack?” Harry challenged. He hadn’t raised his voice, but it carried something implacable with it; something that would accept nothing but an honest answer; something that sent delicious shivers down Hermione’s spine to hear it.

“Like I said when we came in: that’s something that requires a discussion with… _Professor_ Umbridge.” Madam Bones sounded anything but pleased to give Umbridge any kind of title. “As for the ones that disobeyed my orders: I apologise to you and Ms. Granger. I can only assure that they will be disciplined for their insubordination.” _Not for attacking a pair of teenagers, but for doing so without orders_ Hermione thought to herself. Still, pointing that out here and now wouldn’t help her cause so she kept silent. Across the table, she felt more than saw Harry’s eyes flick over to her.

“Alright.” he agreed after a pause.

“Amelia!” Umbridge’s voice rang out. “I would like an explanation for what you think you’re doing.”

“I could say the same to you.” Bones boomed back. “What made you think that you have the authority to order my aurors around?” Umbridge’s smirk could only be bad news. She opened a hideous pink handbag and drew out an official looking parchment.

“I have here a warrant for Ms. Granger’s arrest.” the toad-like woman smirked. “I simply charged your aurors with their duty to carry it out.”

“Any warrant must pass through my department.” Bones snapped coldly. “The fact that a warrant for a minor at Hogwarts would have certainly passed across my desk suggests that what you have there is nothing more than a waste of parchment.” Umbridge’s widening smirk told Hermione that there was another blow coming.

“Hem, hem, that is not entirely true, Amelia, and you know it.” Umbridge’s girly tones were firmly back in place. “This warrant has been issued on the authority of the Minister for Magic and countersigned by three magistrates of the Wizengamot.”

Amelia Bones looked like she had swallowed a wasp. She raised her wand and the warrant zoomed over to her, Umbridge clearly letting it go in an attempted show of magnanimity. Bones read the warrant and turned around with visible reluctance.

“Miss Granger, I regret to inform you that I must, by law, take you into custody.”

Unsurprisingly, to Hermione at least, Harry’s body coiled back into a protective stance and his wand came up to point at Bones.

“You can hand Hermione to her over my dead body.” he growled out. Hermione didn’t have any attention left to admonish her friend for basically declaring war on the Ministry; all her mental energy was focused on how she was going to rescue what she could of her original plan.

“Potter, the situation has changed.” Bones snapped in exasperation. “This is a legally valid warrant for Miss Granger’s arrest, so I must execute it. The law is the law.”

“Sure it is.” Harry snorted. “Which bits of that law get applied clearly depends on how friendly you are with the current Minister, though. So, no, you don’t get to take Hermione.”

“The law applies to everyone equally!” Bones cried out, clearly offended.

“Yeah? Then explain why known Death Eaters were never tried. Tell me why I faced the entire Wizengamot this summer.” Hermione saw Bones hesitate, but more importantly she saw the way Harry’s right hand tightened around his wand as he prepared to fight; a hand that still bore the scars of Umbridge’s torture. _Of course!_ Hermione clambered across the table in a move that probably shocked most of her peers more than the drama that had unfolded so far. Once she was standing next to her friend, Hermione rested her fingers on his outstretched arm.

“Harry, do you trust me?” she asked in a low voice. His eyes flicked over to her before snapping back to the perceived threat of Amelia Bones. A tight nod gave her the answer she was looking for. “Just follow my lead then. Alright?” Another nod. Hermione turned to face Bones and found the older witch watching her carefully.

“Madam Bones, I’ll agree to surrender to you under one condition.” Hermione said, allowing her voice to carry across the hall. Under her fingers she felt Harry’s muscles tense, but he kept himself under control.

“The Ministry does not allow criminals to set conditions on their arrest.” Umbridge sneered from the high table.

“We do if it prevents violence around innocents.” Bones retorted. “And if it isn’t disproportionately demanding. So, what is your condition, Miss Granger?”

“I would like you to come over here and look at Harry’s hand.” Hermione said with a sad smile. She saw realisation strike Bones like a thunderbolt. Unfortunately, others had also picked up on what she was doing.

“NO!” Umbridge screamed as Harry flinched away from Hermione’s fingers, casting a betrayed look her way. “Aurors! Seize that brat!”

“Nobody move!” Amelia roared back. A tense silence ensued and Hermione felt her breath catch in her chest as if releasing it might push the situation one way or the other. Bones wasn’t anywhere near as paralysed. “This, Dolores, is why arrests are performed by my department. What kind of fool pushes for violence in a hall full of children?” Umbridge looked like she was considering applying some violence herself to prevent Bones from getting a good look at Harry’s hand. Next to her Harry seemed to sense the same threat as his wand moved to cover the High Inquisitor.

Hermione split her attention between Umbridge and Bones as Head of the DMLE approached. She was grateful that the aurors who had proven themselves most likely to side against them, regardless of what Bones might say, had been effectively neutralised by Harry already. The two that were conscious still looked ashen and she doubted that they felt up to threatening anyone. At this point her greatest worry was keeping Harry from panicking. She knew that her best friend was on the verge of bolting and still might if Bones’ approach pushed at him too hard.

_Please, Harry. I know it’s hard, but we’ll win it all if you can get through this._ Judging by the way Harry’s head whipped around to look het her, Hermione had murmured her thoughts out loud. He visibly swallowed and steeled himself to face the next few minutes.

By this time Bones had reached them. She gave Hermione a short nod and turned to face Harry.

“Mr. Potter, may I see your hand as Miss Granger has requested?”

Harry’s hand came up slowly, deliberately keeping his wand pointed away. Bones bent over it and recoiled a moment later.

“I believe that may be relevant to your original purpose in coming to Hogwarts, Madam Bones.” Hermione offered quietly, before holding out her wand, handle first. “As we agreed, I’m surrendering myself into your custody.”

“I’m coming with you.” Harry instantly jumped in causing Bones to eye him carefully.

“ _Hem, hem_ … I’m sure that Madam Bones will wish to carefully investigate your obstruction of justice here today, Mr. Potter. Isn’t that so, Amelia?”

Madam Bones rolled her eyes were Umbridge couldn’t see her. “Will you surrender your wand to me, Mr. Potter?”

“Do it, Harry.” Hermione demanded under her breath. “She’s giving you a chance to disprove what Umbridge is saying. Umbridge can’t attack us if you cooperate.” Hermione ignored the evaluating look that she received from Bones at her low exclamation, too concerned with watching Harry.

His hesitation didn’t last nearly as long as Hermione had expected. Taking a deep breath he flipped his wand over so that he was holding it by the tip and held the handle out to Madam Bones.

“Thank you, Mr. Potter.” Madam Bones said, carefully pocketing Harry’s wand. A motion over her shoulder brought several aurors running over. “Take Mr. Potter and Miss Granger to the Department and put them in two of the interview rooms. Alderton, Rabnot, bring Bletchly along.”

Orders given, Madam Bones turned to march out of the Hall, followed by Harry and Hermione, each flanked by a pair of aurors.

:-:-:-:-:

When Hermione and Harry had reached the Department of Magical Law Enforcement their auror escorts had separated them. Hermione had found herself left in a small room containing a single table and two chairs. The room had only a single door leading in and out of it. The aurors did not seem to be in any hurry to join her in that room. Hermione bent her head and did her best to prepare for whatever was coming by practicing her Occlumency to order her thoughts.

Finally, the door to the little room opened and Hermione looked up to see Amelia Bones walking in. Weariness was written plainly on the elder witch’s face, but determination shone through that to remind Hermione not to expect any weakness here. Bones sat down across from her and looked at some parchments she had been carrying.

Hermione kept quiet, content to wait and see what, if any, defence she might need to mount.

“You’ve really set the cat among the pixies, you know that?” Bones finally gusted out. Hermione just quirked an eyebrow, unsure of what the right response was. “Delores has clearly violated the law, but her position in the government more or less guarantees that I won’t be able to run a clean investigation. Fudge has already started throwing up whatever roadblocks he can.”

“So, Harry was right in his assessment?” Hermione summarised. It got her a low powered glare.

“I find it disturbing that the next generation is taking such a sceptical attitude towards our laws.” Bones grumbled.

“Well, can you blame us?” Hermione retorted. “We’re not blind. We can see that money and connections can get you out of answering for even the most heinous of crimes.”

“The law still doesn’t allow for that.” the Head of the DMLE protested.

“In other words: it’s all about the application… like Harry said.” Hermione noticed a light grimace from Bones at her words, but the expression was smoothed away in the blink of an eye.

“I suppose that the good news for you is that I’m handling your case then. Given the fact that there is clear evidence for the points in the article that you apparently commissioned from Miss Skeeter and your full cooperation when faced with a legal warrant for your arrest, I cannot charge you with obstruction of justice or sedition; I’m frankly unsure how Delores came up with that first one to begin with. As for espionage… perhaps you could share exactly how you came by the information?”

“I managed to get a good view of Harry’s hand after one of his detentions.” Hermione answered with a shrug. “I didn’t feel I could trust the Ministry to, ah, _apply_ the laws against what Madam Umbridge was doing on my word alone so I contacted someone more experienced in presenting such arguments to the magical world at large to help. I also researched which laws were being broken using the Hogwarts library.”

“Did you encourage Miss Skeeter to write the article any particular way?”

“I asked her not to name Harry.”

Bones eyes showed that she hadn’t been expecting that answer. “May I ask why?”

“Harry hates being in the papers. I wanted to spare him that if I could.”

“That’s-… you still intend to publish the article.” Bones voice turned sharp with realisation. Hermione silently cursed her incautious tongue. She tried to analyse the situation as quickly as possible and found herself coming to the conclusion that she was probably best off not throwing up poorly thought out denials.

“You’ve just told me that the Minister is already throwing up roadblocks to your investigation. Did you really think I would sit back as he tries to hide that his toady was torturing my best friend?”

“Would it be too much to ask?” Bones gusted out. “Or do you really think that a newspaper article would stop him?”

Hermione let one corner of her mouth quirk up. “You’ve read the piece. What did you think after reading it?” She watched her interrogator frown. “Those conclusions you’ve reached… do you think the rest of wizarding Britain would share them? What would it do for the Minister’s chances at being re-elected? How about his standing in the Wizengamot?” Bones stilled for a moment as she worked through the implications Hermione had raised.

“You realise that this will hamstring the Ministry until we can get Fudge out?”

“You can prove that he broke the law. You can at least imply that he ordered Harry tortured by a trusted underling. Are you telling me that you can’t work with that?”

“It will still take time. If you’ve been able to infer and plan as much as you apparently have you should realise that there is a solid block propping the Minister up; a block that won’t throw him out for Harry Potter’s sake.”

Hermione was about to fire back a retort when something made her stop. _There’s something off about this situation._ Hermione’s mind flashed through possibility after possibility before she struck on an explanation that might fit. _Now I feel like the trout on a hook…_ _I’m being tested._

There was something the Head of the DMLE wanted to know about Hermione Granger and Bones had apparently decided that challenging Hermione on the article and matters of politics was the way to reveal it. _Which is odd. There’s no way a politician with her experience hasn’t figured all this out already. She most certainly doesn’t need a teenager to tell her how to handle herself in the Wizengamot. Besides, while I’ve answered her questions so far, quite a few students at Hogwarts might have managed the same._

_How many of them would have actually done something about it though?_

Hermione felt like she might have hit upon the reason Bones was feeling her out like this. _If I’ve taken action once, what’s to stop me from doing so again? If she’s going to make a play for the Minister’s office based on something I set in motion while aware that I_ know _what she’s doing… yes, I believe I’d like to know my plans in her situation too; especially since from her perspective I’m either working with or influencing Harry Potter, who’ll be a hero again when the truth comes out. Now… how do I play this?_

Hermione settled upon a carrot and stick approach. “I understand, Madam Bones.” she spoke calmly. “However, the current administration is so unwilling to face up to the reports they received last summer that they’ve resorted to torturing a teenager. Any government that acts with such disregard for its own laws is a danger to its people, regardless of whether the reports are true or not. If the reports _are_ true, and I believe that they are, a government that is temporarily hamstrung is better than one that is persistently inactive in the face of imminent catastrophe.” As Hermione spoke she carefully studied Madam Bones’ features. The older witch didn’t so much as twitch throughout. After Hermione had finished Bones sat silently for a while.

“Very well, Miss Granger. I am forced to conclude that there is insufficient evidence that you have committed the crimes for which you were arrested. You are free to go.”

“And Harry?”

“Since Mr. Potter did not attack once it became clear that there was an actual warrant for your arrest, I have already dismissed the charge levelled against him. I would advise both of you to go back to Hogwarts and focus on your studies… your O.W.L.s are coming up soon after all.” There was a wealth of meaning in that slight pause before Bones mentioned the O.W.L.s.

_‘Go back home and stop interfering in the Ministry.’ We’ll see. If you stop coming after Harry, I’ll stop coming after you._

“Of course, Madam Bones.” Hermione agreed to keep up appearances. “Will the ministry be providing us with portkeys back to Hogwarts?”

“I’m afraid not, Miss Granger. Portkeys tend to be a bit unreliable around that area. It would be safer for yourself and Mr. Potter to return by floo. I believe you’ll find him waiting for you outside this room.”

_Well, that was about as clear as dismissals get._ Standing up, Hermione gave Bones a cordial nod and turned to leave the room as if the certainty that there was another shoe waiting to drop wasn’t screaming up and down her spine; the door closing behind her did nothing to alleviate that feeling. Hermione did get slightly distracted from her worry when her field of vision was suddenly full of a pair of worried emeralds.

“Hermione! She didn’t do anything to you did she?” Harry’s demanded, his hands holding onto her shoulders tightly.

“No, Harry. Madam Bones was perfectly professional.” Hermione tried to reassure him with a half-smile.

“You’re sure?” he asked, looking like he was holding his breath for her answer.

“I am, Harry.”

“Okay.” he gusted out as shoulders slumped. Harry’s hands withdrew from Hermione’s shoulders and shot her a slightly apologetic grin. “Sorry for piling on like that.”

Hermione stood on her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for worrying.” she told her suddenly gobsmacked friend. “You were brilliant in the Great Hall as well.”

Harry gave her the kind of nod that clearly told Hermione he hadn’t heard a word she’d said after her lips had touched his skin. _He looked just like that at Kings Cross last year_ she thought with a touch of amusement, _or that time in the common room._

Hermione slipped her hand into Harry’s and gently started pulling him along, not quite trusting him to follow her in his current daze. She kept observing him as they stood in the elevator, the smile playing on her lips never fading. By the time they reached the auditorium Harry had at least come to his senses enough that he was walking by himself again, carrying an air of introspection with him.

As the Ministry of Magic’s public fireplaces came into view Hermione finally understood why Bones had decided to send them home this way. Standing near their destination, talking to a wizard Hermione didn’t recognise, was Rita Skeeter. _Looks like Madam Bones_ really _wants that piece published._

A part of Hermione rebelled against being ‘handled’ in this way and considered slipping past the reporter and leaving Bones flapping in the wind. Almost instantly she squashed that sentiment. _That woman is still a politician, so this shouldn’t surprise me. Besides, giving up on this now would only let that vile, pink toad get away with torturing Harry._

The spike in rage that last thought produced had Hermione angling her path towards Rita. The young witch had no problems spotting the moment that her target saw her coming and the fact that the reporter showed precisely no surprise confirmed that this was a setup.

“Why, Miss Granger, fancy meeting you here.” came Rita’s sardonic drawl. _She knows as well as I do that we’re being used here._ It made Hermione feel unaccountably better that her partner in all this shared her feelings; she was also hyper-aware of the fact that this understanding rested solely between two of the four people present.

“Hello, Rita.” Hermione responded in kind, a quick squeeze of her hand communicating to Harry that she would take care of this. Her friend had stiffened at seeing someone he considered, if not an enemy, then at least a problem. “Who’s your friend?”

“Oh, this? This is Barnabas Cuffe, editor-in-chief of the Daily Prophet.”

The balding man gave the two teens a slightly wary nod, which Hermione returned with a cordial nod of her own. She might not care to know this person, but she understood that he was going to be crucial to the culmination of her plans since he was the one who decided which articles got published in his paper.

 “Anyway, we were just reaching the conclusion that we’ve independently been tipped off to be here by sources we trust.” Rita explained.

“What a coincidence.” Hermione deadpanned.

“Isn’t it just?”

“We might as well get down to business then.” Hermione said, fighting to keep her smirk off of her face. “If you head down to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I believe that you may find Amelia Bones willing to confirm certain parts of your article and even add some more information before you publish.”

“And you presume you know what I wish to publish in my paper?” Cuffe asked in a dry, reedy voice, heavy with skepticism.

Some of the smirk Hermione was suppressing broke out onto her face. “You haven’t read the article yet, have you?” she asked. Cuffe’s mouth opened to respond, but Hermione cut him off. “Don’t bother. It’s obvious that you haven’t. Trust me that it’s… explosive.”

“It really is, Barney.” Rita affirmed gleefully.

“Don’t call me that!” Cuffe snapped, before studying Rita through narrowed eyes for a moment. He turned back to Hermione and told her: “I suppose it will be. This one is only ever this gleeful if she’s got something good enough to make me pay through the nose for it.”

“Oh, Barney, you just know all the right things to say.” Rita mocked.

“Just go talk to Bones.” Cuffe huffed as he hurled a handful of floo powder into the fire. “I’ll expect you in my office at six this evening. If your article is as good as you seem to think it is, we’ll run it tomorrow. Offices of the Daily Prophet!” The editor disappeared in a swirl of green flames, leaving the other three looking at an empty fireplace.

Hermione managed to recover first and levelled an expectant gaze and a raised eyebrow at Rita.

“I’m going. I’m going.” Rita muttered as she turned to head deeper into the ministry. “You should too if you want to keep your nose clean; or at least keep the fact that you’re currently holding Potter’s hand out of Witch Weekly.”

“I know.” Hermione snapped, withdrawing her hand like it had been burnt. Rita’s sniggering departure was followed by a fierce brown-eyed glare.

“Hermione?”

She could hear a wealth of questions in the way Harry said her name. “Not here, Harry. Can you wait until we get somewhere private?”

Harry responded by holding out the container of floo powder to her. _I guess I’ll take that to mean ‘barely’_ Hermione thought as she took a pinch of powder.

“The Three Broomsticks.” Hermione rode the resulting green vortex until she stepped out of the fireplace in the Hogsmeade pub. She took a step to the side and waited. It didn’t take long for the hearth to flare green and disgorge a stumbling Harry Potter who fell to his knees. _He’s getting a bit better at magical travel._ The look she got from her friend told Hermione that Harry was in no mood to hear that particular compliment.

Without a word he began walking out of the Three Broomsticks. Hermione fell into step beside Harry, observing him out of the corner of her eye. The entire way up to the castle was traversed in silence. Harry’s eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead of them and Hermione could see him almost physically bottling his emotions.

His determined stride didn’t lessen in the slightest as they entered the castle. Hermione could have guessed his trajectory even before he started climbing the stairs in the Entrance Hall, with the final confirmation of her suspicions coming when he started walking back and forth in front of the wall across from a familiar, ugly tapestry.

When the door appeared, Harry held it open for her and Hermione obligingly entered the Room despite a slight twinge in her gut at the thought that she was knowingly walking into an argument with a wizard even the aurors feared. _Seriously, Granger? You know Harry is your best friend. He’s not about to hurt you._

Hermione knew that Harry wouldn’t hurt her physically, but a small part of her mind whispered that it wasn’t sure her heart would recover from Harry angrily ending their friendship. _Guess I know what my goal is for the coming conversation._ No sooner had the door closed behind them than Harry waded right into that dreaded conversation.

“Okay, Hermione, I really need you to tell me what’s going on here.” Harry demanded, his voice shaking with tightly leashed emotions. “I know that you’re a good deal smarter than I am and I trust you, but it really looks like you’re working with Skeeter and you told Bones about-… and I-… I can’t…” He shook his head as if he was trying to physically shake of his confusion. When his gaze met hers, Hermione felt her heart twist at the lost look she saw in his eyes. “What’s going on?”

He sounded so lost, so hurt, that Hermione felt an urge to just hold him and make it all go away well up inside of her. Unfortunately, that wasn’t what was needed right now, nor what Harry had asked for.

“It’s a bit of a long story.” she admitted, taking a seat on the couch the Room had provided. Harry remained standing, that haunted look still etched on his face. “You’re right in your assumption that all this is part of a plan.” Hermione began, choosing to interpret some of Harry’s unfinished sentences in a way that let her offer a reassurance first and foremost.

“I started this plan a few weeks ago… when I found out what that woman was doing to you in her detentions.” Hermione forced herself to ignore the way Harry’s breath hissed against his teeth as air was sucked in by his surprise. “Even if magical society seems a little strange to us, there was no way that torturing you was going to be legal and ethical. It _was_ torture!” Hermione glared at Harry whose mouth had opened to begin a protest that she was exaggerating.

“I did some research and found out that Blood Quills are only allowed to be used by someone licensed as a lawyer; Umbridge isn’t, I checked. Even if she was, I looked up the requirements for getting that license. A part of it is signing a contract which says that if you ever misuse a Blood Quill, you agree that you should be prosecuted for using Dark Magic; one count for each improper use of the quill. This means that no matter how the Ministry tries to twist it, Umbridge was violating the law.”

“Next, I looked up how this relates to you not being of age yet. There aren’t a lot of laws that regulate what you can and can’t do to children placed in your care. That was disappointing, but not really a surprise considering some of the stories Neville’s told. The one thing that you absolutely can’t do is use Dark Magic on them.” Hermione noticed a spark of realisation light up Harry’s eyes. _Once you know how to recognise it, Harry’s intelligence is so obvious. It’s a shame that he tries to hide it._

“This is where I ran into, well, fairy tales to be honest. Apparently, the whole thing about locking a princess in a tower and the evil stepmother? Those have an origin. The fairy tales usually paint it as a king or queen doing the locking up, but according to what I read it was down to a Minister for Magic back in the 1740’s. He was apparently a muggle-born that was discovered rather later than usual. The sources disagreed on his exact age when he was told magic existed, but it was apparently after puberty had set in. Once he had the power to do so, this wizard set out to take revenge on all the people he felt had wronged him. This resulted in several muggle-born children.” Harry’s grimace revealed that he was still reading between the lines.

“Unfortunately for those children, this particular wizard was married and by all accounts his wife matched him pretty well. She discovered his habit and then took it out on the children. Several of them were cursed in increasingly dark ways. Some reports claimed that the Minister knew what his wife was doing and simply kept out of the way, hoping that she would clean up the evidence of his… _indiscretions_.”

“Either way, the Wizengamot found out about the whole sordid story and they passed a law that anyone using Dark Magic on a minor, or conspiring to do so, would be forever barred from holding public office since they would have proven that they couldn’t be trusted as stewards of Magical Britain’s future. This law also significantly upped the severity of the punishments handed out to those who broke it.”

“Unfortunately, for all of this legal weight to be brought down on the Minister and Umbridge’s heads requires that they be convicted, so we had to show Madam Bones some evidence.” Hermione gave Harry a sad smile. “What you did in the Great Hall was not only incredibly brave, it may have gotten the people denying You Know Who’s return out of the government.”

Harry blushed, but determination shone out through his eyes at the same time. “I think I get all that… what you were trying for at least, but why would you involve _Skeeter_ of all people?”

“I needed someone to get the word out in such a way that the Ministry would be forced to act. She believes you, you know?”

“Hermione, we can’t trust her!” Harry exploded. “We have no idea what she’s going to turn this into, just that she’s going to turn it against us!”

“She can’t.” Hermione smirked, unable to hide just how pleased she was at this part. “Because of the way she’s gone after you before and how that set the tone for the way the Ministry’s come after you she has no choice but to keep your name out of it if she wants her piece published. Since your name won’t be attached to it, there will be a lot of parents demanding justice for fear that it could be their son or daughter.”

“It’ll come out eventually.” Harry muttered mulishly, causing Hermione’s smirk to widen unintentionally.

“What do you think convinced Rita to believe you?” she asked. “You’ve stuck to your story despite the Ministry torturing you… that’s going to hit home for a _lot_ of people. When it comes out that you were the one being tortured… you might not have to face him alone anymore. You Know Who is about to face a far sterner challenge than he was expecting; one I hope he chokes on before he ever gets to you, because I am _not_ losing my best friend, you understand me, Potter?”

Harry was just gaping at her in disbelief now. “How on earth did you avoid getting sorted into Slytherin?”

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

“Yeah… yeah.” Harry breathed out, still looking a little shaken as he dropped down onto the couch next to Hermione. “I-… how do you even come up with that?”

Hermione couldn’t contain herself on hearing that her relationship with Harry was still intact and grabbed him in a tight hug. “Some hag was torturing my favourite wizard. What did you expect me to do?”

Harry just shook his head in response. Hermione didn’t think that he was entirely aware of the way his arms slipped around her, reciprocating the hug. She couldn’t care less though at the moment and allowed her head to rest on her friend’s shoulder as Harry worked his way through everything she had just dumped on him; she could wait.

“So,” Harry finally broke the long silence, “I’m your favourite wizard?”

Hermione’s head snapped up, heat flooding her face. _Why did he have to latch onto_ that _part?!_  “I-… I-…”

“You’re my favourite witch too.”

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat and she desperately fought to not let the burning at the corners of her eyes turn into actual tears. Her head drifted back down to Harry’s shoulder with a happy sigh. “Thank you, Harry. That means a lot.”

:-:-:-:-:

**_Excerpt from Hermione Granger’s research notes_ **

_Day 81_

_I can’t believe it. It worked._

_I did everything I could to ensure that it would, of course, but I still can’t believe it._

_While I would hardly call it a precedent of any legal weight, the arrest of Dolores Umbridge could be considered the first prosecution based on a dream. It also reaffirms that anyone who might end up working with our invention would need to be held to an extremely high ethical standard._

_Certainly, I took a great risk with Harry’s trust in how I handled this. I can only be grateful that he’s seen things my way._

_Hopefully I will be able to devote my full attention to this project and my exams now._


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione sat behind the hangings of her bed, rolling the amethyst that had captured her dreams so faithfully for the past few months between her fingers as she waited for the showers to free up. It was a deep royal purple all the way through now, that last speck of clarity having been swallowed up the previous night. _The last clear bit was right at the centre. If our initial theory on the way these recordings work was correct, I might be able to reliably find that recording since it sits at a known, identifiable point. Even if I can’t, it’s information worth knowing._

Taking a moment to focus on her hearing, Hermione concluded that there were still two people using the shower. _Right, a quick check can’t hurt. Just to be sure._ Hermione took a deep breath to steady her resolve and held up her crystal so that it was between her and the wall behind her bed. She placed the tip of her wand on the amethyst and breathed out her first incantation. “ _Topologos._ ”

A spiderweb of green lines traced out across the stone’s surface from her wand. The runes that she had carved unsurprisingly fitted neatly into the squares the grid created; she had after all used this spell during the carving process to ensure that she properly spaced them out. Hermione then carefully rotated the small sphere so that the lines across the back of the amethyst disappeared behind the ones on her side. Then she placed her wand as straight as she could on the centre point and cast again. “ _Lumos._ ”

The mists that appeared over her pillow already contained a bubble and Hermione felt a spike of elation at the idea that the first step towards demonstrating her hypothesis had been taken; then the image registered.

In the few seconds before the bubble popped Hermione saw herself and Harry wrapped in a tight embrace. Their nudity, the rhythm of their movements and the passion with which they were kissing were ample evidence of what was happening in the scene her deepest subconscious had thrown up for her.

Hermione dropped the stone and her wand with a squeak as she scooted back, away from what she’d just seen. Her heartrate picked up and her breath turned into shallow panting. _I’m_ so _glad that I didn’t try this with Harry here._

Hermione’s imagination then jumped all over that thought and began suggesting all sorts of reasons why Harry would be in the girls’ dorm; specifically, in _her_ bed. _Okay, so I’m dreaming of Harry… again. That’s a fair indication that I’m attracted to Harry Potter, I suppose._

 _It’s not_ that _surprising, is it? I mean Harry is handsome, kind, brave, funny- oh, bugger! I’m out of control!_ Hermione wished she could just turn her thoughts off for once, but that just seemed to make them spin faster, throwing up more and more images of her and Harry _together_.

 _Think, Granger… what am I going to do about this?_ Her mind raced around in circles until an almost radical thought occurred to her. _Do I need to do anything about this or am I just getting myself worked up pointlessly?_

Hermione couldn’t deny her own attraction to her best friend, but that just made her part of a slight majority of girls in Hogwarts. The real question was whether Harry felt any attraction for her; which would put her in a very significant minority among her peers. When it came to how she might go about even finding out whether she was a member of that particular minority, Hermione discovered that she was thoroughly out of her depth. She sighed out loud as she ran up against the limits of her knowledge; manipulating the government had been so much easier than dealing with her own runaway emotions.

_At this point I at least have Harry’s friendship. That’s already a pretty good minority to be in. Maybe I should just wait and see. I don’t want to ruin what I have for something that may only be a passing infatuation._

“Hermione! Shower’s free!” Lavender’s voice dragged Hermione back to the here and now. _Goodness. How long have I been sitting here acting like… well, like Lavender and Parvati?_

“Thanks, Lavender! I’ll see you at breakfast.” Hermione called back, trying not to let her thoughts carry over into her voice.

Gathering her essentials, she ducked into the showers to get started on her day. _Wait and see. All I can do is wait and see._ By the time she was dressed, Hermione felt more or less back to her normal state of mind. She cast one last look at the deep purple stone on her bed before stuffing it under her pillow and heading downstairs with a determined tread.

She’d barely made it into the common room when a blur of white filled her vision and she heard a dull thump. At her feet lay a cream-coloured roll of parchment, while the white blur turned out to be Hedwig, swooping through the common room, looking for a perch. Hermione picked up the delivery and took it over to a comfortable armchair where she could unfurl it while she waited for her friends. As she read a smirk pulled at her lips.

****

** The Daily Prophet **

****

**_Ministry Top Toppled_ **

_Minister and Senior Undersecretary To Be Impeached_

_Minister Bones Elected_

 

Hermione read through the copy of the Daily Prophet that a now-preening Hedwig had brought her with a definite sense of smug satisfaction. It was the culmination of one of her better schemes since attending Hogwarts laid out in print.

The article didn’t mention whether Dolores Umbridge would be continuing in her capacity as Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts. As a result, Hermione found herself uncommonly eager to head down to breakfast to see if that hag was sitting at the High Table. _I can’t quite decide whether I want her to be there or not. On the one hand, her absence would indicate a good chance that she’s been incarcerated pending her trial. On the other… what I wouldn’t give to see her face!_ _To tell her that she should_ never _have tried to hurt Harry!_

Hermione basked happily in her vindictive fantasy. She doubted that she would taunt that harpy at the High Table; out of respect for the rest of the faculty if nothing else. For now, she would settle for simply re-reading the report of her resounding victory. She sank into the words, savouring the message, until a particular sound drew her out of her reverie.

“Good morning, Hermione.” Ron’s voice drifted over cheerfully.

“Good morning, Ron.” she replied distractedly as she folded her newspaper. Without the paper blocking her view she could see that both of her best friends had come down from their dorm together.

“Never thought I’d catch you reading that thing again with the way it’s been going off on Harry.”

A smug grin refused to be kept off Hermione’s lips. “I find myself particularly enjoying this edition.” She held up the paper so that Harry and Ron could read the headline. She saw the way both of their eyes widened.

“Remind me never to hack her off.” she heard Ron mutter to Harry.

“Better keep up on your homework then, hmmm?” Hermione chuckled with a wink. Ron playing up a reaction of exaggerated fear and horror turned that chuckle into a gale of laughter.

“Can’t do that on an empty stomach, Hermione.” Ron grinned, breaking his act. “We ready to head down?”

“Oh, yes.” Hermione agreed eagerly, blushing when she saw Harry’s cocked eyebrow asking a question. “The article didn’t say if Umbridge has been fired. I want to make sure that she’s out of the castle.” She carefully left out her more vindictive reasons for looking forward to this.

Harry nodded and his eyes flicked over to Ron for a second to see him already heading for the portrait. “Thanks again, Hermione. I think I’m going to be saying that for a long time.”

“Show, don’t tell, Harry.” Hermione smiled, causing a thoughtful crease in her friend’s forehead. She would have been happy to let him work that idea through in peace, but she knew that this was not the time. “Come on, we’re going to lose Ron if we don’t hurry.”

It didn’t take Harry and Hermione long to catch up to their friend and the mood was buoyant as they walked into the Great Hall.

Hermione’s eyes swept over the High Table in a fraction of a moment and she had to suppress a cheer of triumph: Umbridge was noticeably absent.

“Looks like you really got rid of her, Hermione.” Ron commented with a low whistle. Hermione smiled beatifically and felt like her body was lighter than it had ever been as she joined her friends in heading for the Gryffindor table.

She still felt like she was walking on air when she reached the breakfast table. Sitting down between her two best friends, Hermione began selecting her meal, settling on a cup of muesli, fruit and yoghurt. It was just after she had filled her mouth with her first bite that an unwelcome voice sounded behind her.

“Good morning, Harry.” Cho Chang practically purred.

“Um, morning, Cho.”

“I just wanted to say thanks. I’m really grateful that you managed to get rid of Umbridge.”

Hermione’s blood pressure spiked, puncturing the happy feeling she’d been carrying ever since she’d seen the morning’s headline. There was nothing the least bit subtle about the way the Chinese witch was leaning forward, the neckline of her robe dropping open invitingly. Hermione did her best to rush through finishing her mouthful so that she could give this trollop a piece of her mind; _imagine that: now that people are acknowledging that Harry was right, you’re going to ask him out._ Hermione’s fuming rant never materialised as she was preempted by her best friend.

“Oh, that wasn’t me.” Harry smiled brightly, either oblivious to Chang’s advances or pretending he was. “That was Hermione.”

Chang looked like she’d bitten into a lemon. “I’m sure Granger helped,” she sniffed dismissively, “but she wasn’t the one facing off against that toad for us.” The Head Girl apparently realised that her tone had shifted a bit too far from her husky flirting; a realisation that might or might not have been aided by the crease starting to show in Harry’s brow, because her next words just about dripped with implications. “I just thought that maybe we could celebrate you saving the school again… say, next Hogsmeade weekend?”

“Harry and I were already going!” Hermione’s mouth blurted out before her mind could catch up. She silently cursed her outburst as half the occupants of the Great Hall, including her friends, turned to stare in her direction.

“Really?” Chang sneered with an unfriendly smirk on her face. “Looks like this might be the first time Harry’s heard about this.” It was a rather mild description of Harry’s blatantly shocked expression. Chang then turned her best simper on Harry: “It must get so tiresome to have so many desperate people throwing themselves at you because of who you are; I get a lot of that too.”

In between a pair of blinks Harry’s eyes went hard and sharp as razors. Hermione heard a delighted gasp and it irked her to no end that she wasn’t absolutely sure whether it had come from Chang or herself or possibly both. With that look in his eyes there was no chance of anyone seeing Harry as anything other than a wizard capable of fighting a dark lord.

“You’re right it _is_ annoying to have desperate people throwing themselves at me.” Harry’s voice carried the same entrancing power as his eyes. The sound made Hermione’s heart beat faster until the meaning of his words sank in and almost made it stop. Her shoulders hunched up as her body prepared itself for the blow to come. Her body was so tensed up that a hand taking her own caused her to twitch with a suppressed flinch. Looking up she followed the hand holding hers, up the arm attached to it, up the neck that met it at the shoulder until she was locked in place by her best friend’s emerald gaze. “Wanna go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?”

 _I will not cry… I will_ not _cry, I don’t care how sweet he is._ “I’d love to, Harry.” Hermione managed, surprised at how steady her voice sounded. She might also admit, at least to herself, that she was a little bit surprised that the words didn’t come out ‘Go suck eggs, Chang!’.

The Head Girl was standing there, jaw swinging open and a look of ugly shock on her pretty face. When the two girls’ eyes met Chang’s jaw snapped shut and she levelled a withering glare at Hermione before stomping off. Hermione decided that it was best to just let her go without calling out a final quip; there was nothing she could say that would hit the girl harder than Harry’s dismissal anyway.

“Bloody hell, Harry. What was in your pumpkin juice this morning?” Ron’s voice rang out. Hermione jumped, partly from surprise and partly from the guilt of having completely forgotten her other friend’s presence.

“Pumpkin juice, one would hope.” Harry retorted with a small smile playing on his lips.

“Then how exactly do explain giving _Cho Chang_ a knockback and asking Hermione out?”

“Is there something about me that suggests I should not be asked out?” Hermione snapped, an edge of hurt sharpening her voice.

“Of course not.” Ron snorted, seeming annoyed. “You have to admit that Harry’s spent the past two-and-a-half years mooning after someone who’s _not you_ though.”

Hermione felt like she’d been punched in the gut. Ron did have a point: Harry’s infatuation with Chang was something she’d discussed with Ron before; at length. _Why did he ask me then?_ her mind whispered, her heart already bracing itself to be broken.

“Would you be able to go out with anyone who’d had a go at Hermione like that?” Harry’s voice asked over her head, sounding as serious as she’d ever heard him.

“Well, no…”

“Would you mind taking Hermione out on date?”

“No…”

“Well, too bad. I asked her first.” Harry’s last rejoinder definitely sounded amused. Hermione risked a look up at his face and found him with a smile quirking up the corners of his mouth.

“Are you sure, Harry? About wanting… me?”

“Of course I am.” Harry replied without hesitation, his expression falling into a frown. “Are you sure you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?”

“Yes!” Hermione’s hand clamped down on Harry’s, which she had been holding this whole time, as if her subconscious mind was worried about losing him already.

“Then what are we worrying about?” Harry’s question sounded sincere, as if he truly couldn’t figure out where this conversation was supposed to be going.

“Nothing important, Harry.” Hermione smiled. “I just had a little trouble believing I wasn’t dreaming.”

His smirk sent a shiver down her spine as he leant in. “Do I look like I’m in a Granger Bubble?”

“I think we’re going to have to some experiments to establish that beyond a doubt.” Hermione breathed out, her voice huskier than she had intended.

“I look forward to it.” Harry’s voice tickled her ear. “I really like doing research with you.”

“Oh Merlin!” Ron’s groan broke the mood like a carelessly dropped potions vial. “I’m going to turn into Hogwarts’ biggest third wheel, aren’t I?”

Hermione’s face was flaming, not helped by her private thought that Ron might have a point. Harry’s face was as red as her own felt.

“We’re not that bad… are we?” he asked.

“You are.” Ron retorted with a rueful grin as he stood up. “I’m gonna go find Nev so you can get it out of your systems. Just try to come up for air and say ‘hi’ every now and then, yeah?”

“Are we really that bad?” Harry asked Hermione as Ron sat a few yards further down at the table.

Hermione shrugged self-consciously. “Maybe?”

“Oh.” Harry stared off into the distance for a moment. “Am I a bad person if I don’t really care?”

Hermione’s laughter bubbled out of her in a way that it only ever seemed to for Harry. “Not as far as I’m concerned.” she smiled.

“Good.” Harry sounded very decided; and he still hadn’t let go off her hand throughout all of this. _I wouldn’t have dared to dream this at the beginning of the year_ Hermione thought happily to herself.

Sure, it was just a trip to Hogsmeade and there was more than enough uncertainty in their combined future to make any potential relationship an uphill struggle, but Hermione reminded herself that she’d never backed down from challenge before and wasn’t about to start now. She also knew, better than Harry himself, that her best friend was absolutely implacable if given proper motivation and Hermione fully intended to give him all the motivation she could, both to survive the coming war and to stay by her side.

 _If I wasn’t going to let the Ministry have Harry, then I’m certainly not going to let some Dark Lord take him from me after he’s asked me_ _out._

:-:-:-:-:

**_Excerpt from Hermione Granger’s research notes_ **

_Day 82_

_The recording stone has filled up, demonstrating that there is a limit to its memory. There may be benefits in exploring the possibility of overwriting such stones._

_We may try that with the next stones we use. I find myself reluctant to risk this first stone, even if the only reasons I can give are purely emotional. I don’t think I could ever give up something that brought my relationship with Harry so much further than I had ever dreamt._

_Though perhaps considering some of the dreams I saw recorded I may have simply underestimated just how much I was_ _dreaming about that._

* * *

  ** _The End_**

* * *

 

 


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